Penguins Of Madagascar StoryOmatic!
by The Golden City
Summary: All humanized, All Stories, each chapter and every chapter. Regular fics and Song-fics included, because come on, who doesn't love a good Song-fic?
1. Chapter 1

**HIya! **

**So this is my first fic on this fandom, and I am hoping I'll do ok! This story is based of Sabrina Sparrows **_**Valduggery drabbles of friendship romance, **_**A truly awesome story, so if you like Skulduggery pleasant I recommend you read it!**

**Basically this is going to be a collection of longish humanized drabbles, one per chapter, with various parings and themes. There will be song-fics and regular fics and Kico galore! **

**Yes. That is slash. So either get over it or leave, don't flame. **

**So without further ado, let the drabbles begin!**

_**Song: Hero/heroine, Girls like Boys.  
>Pairing: Kico. (Kowalski and Rico)<strong>_

The breeze was cool, combing through the trees and tall buildings to graze over the roof of the apartment block. Rico tilted his head back to the black sheet, the faint glow of the stars brushing over his face like dust. He exhaled and opened his eyes, bright blue-yellow eyes swimming with doubt and pain.

_It's too late baby, there's no turning around  
>I've got my hands in my pocket and my head in a cloud<br>This is how I do  
>When I think about you<em>

It was idiotic completely irrational to be on the cold concrete at that hour, but he thought it was just right. The busy drone of the city soaring into the air for miles around, the constant hum was soothing. New York was alive, filled with people too busy for this or too important for that. It was like having your fingers on the pulse of the world, feeling alone near impossible. It showed life didn't stop over one silly phase he was going through, the river of time buffering along everyone else along with him.

But it wasn't a phase. How long had it been going on? The breathless rush and peaked sensitivity, everything he had been praying to avoid. Months, he thought, but had it been longer? There was no way to tell.

Rico groaned and slumped his head forward, hands slipping into the comfortable folds of his hoodie, clenching and unclenching as a silly attempt to fight the wave of thoughts. It was like a habit; every time those thoughts reared their head he would find some pathetic distraction to fight them off. It had a very low success rate he had to admit, but it never stopped him trying. It was too late to say those feelings didn't exist, too late to bury them under something again.

He shuddered as a cold gust blew past, toying with his hair on the way past, tugging at him with invisible hands.

_I never thought that you could break me apart  
>I keep a sinister smile and a hold of my heart<br>You want to get inside  
>Then you can get in line<br>But not this time._

Rico frowned, eyes dropping to the scraggly white sneakers on his feet, the worn and frayed laces strewn about on the ground. Did he even know what he did to him? The dazzling grin and intelligent gaze that made you question the privacy of your own thoughts every time you met it.

It should have been impossible, he wasn't easily broken, not this easily. A psychopathic smile was enough to keep any normal people at bay, enough to get them to leave him alone. It was defense, without it how many times would he have had his heart put through the paper shredder like one of those 'confidential' letters skipper was always reading? But he had broken the hard shield, busted directly through the middle and sealed himself inside.

'_But he doesn't even realize!' _Rico cried inwardly. _'Doesn't know what he does to me.'_

He was supposed to drive away any feeling of affection, he should have. Why had he missed it? Why had he let it get to this?__

_Cause you caught me off guard  
>Now I'm running and screaming<em>

He thought he was safe obviously. He wasn't a female and he was one of his best friends, emotions like these were not supposed to just pop up out of the blue, they weren't supposed to show up at all! Now where was he, running like a coward inside his own home in fear of his own heart and what he might do?

'_what the heck do I do now?' _he questioned silently, eyes scraping over the city for an answer to his problem. New York didn't respond, the city lights continuing to reflect against his eyesand the throbbing noise not even pausing for a moment.

_I feel like a hero and you are my heroine_

It wasn't right to feel this way. It wasn't ok to look over at him and feel the same swell of joy he got from a successful mission. Why was it that he always had to see the exhausted but arrogant and triumphant smile to feel that any mission was really complete?

"Rico?"

The soft voice startled him from his thoughts, the city sounds taking a back seat to the soft velvety voice. He didn't dare turn around, eyes drawn instead to the blurry shadowed figure in the tinted orange light from the stairwell.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

He swallowed and patted the concrete next him, hearing the door click close and scuffing of footsteps drawing closer. __

_I won't try to philosophize  
>I'll just take a deep breath and I'll look in your eyes.<br>This is how I feel,  
>And it's so surreal<em>

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as the scientist lowered himself to the ground, already knowing that his legs would be crossed, folded up like a pretzel. He opened them, locking his gaze on the taller male's curious pale blue eyes. They were swimming with unasked questions, facts and figures only he would understand. Slowly he let out the air that was burning his lungs, carefully avoiding and hitches that may arise with his thrumming heart.

Kowalski smiled, small white teeth glinting in the combined glow of the city and stars. "Are you feeling alright Rico? You've been awful quiet as of late."

There it was, the deep glowing light of bliss building in the pit of his stomach, setting his senses on fire and burning his nerve endings, the unearthly feeling so surreal and strange. But nice, as always. Swallowing his looked away, eyes now on the spot where Kowalski's neatly tied back shoe brushed against his scruffy footwear. What was he supposed to say? 'yes I'm fine, thanks for asking', an obvious lie and way of shoving his feelings under the rug again? Then again, it wouldn't be much better to say 'No I'm not alright, your voice and presence make me go absolutely crazy and, by the way I think I love you.'

He gazed out over the city, looking for any inspiration to spark what he might say. Eventually he just pressed his palms against the side of his head and mumbled. 'Compl'ated Waslki.'

_I got a closet filled up to the brim  
>With the ghosts of my past and the skeletons<br>And I don't know why  
>You'd even try<br>But I won't lie_

A notepad and pen were held out to him, the pale hand holding them drawing his gaze back to the warm light in Kowalski's eyes.

"I may not be as good at this whole 'sensitivity' thing as Priavte, but I'm willing to give it a shot ." He said, chuckling slightly as eyes dropping to the pad as Rico took it gently from him, gripping the pen in his scarred hand and lined paper in the other.

He chewed his lip slightly, black lines glaring up at him, daring him to mar their perfect pattern with the lazy scrawl of his inner thoughts. There was so much he could tell the scientist, all the secrets of his past could just spill from their hiding place onto the paper. He could tell him about his little sister Miya who was gunned down in a hit and run or about the Psychiatrists building he had burnt down as a teenager. Or, he realized, he could always say exactly what he wanted to say and face the tacticians response, good or bad.

Why would Kowalski even try, for the first year skipper had tried every trick in the book to get him to spill about his past, yet hadn't received an inch. Eventually the team leader had just decided that he wasn't an emotional person and that it would be a waste of time to try to get him to talk about any feelings at all. He furrowed his brows and touched the tip of the pen to the paper, ink sprawling over the page in the loopy script Rico used. If Kowalski was willing to give him a chance to talk about his feelings he wasn't about to lie to him. __

_You caught me off guard  
>Now I'm running and screaming<em>

'_I'm just having trouble at the moment. My past is meeting my present and I can't…' _He broke off, turning to look at the scientist as he tracked the writing over the page.

"Can't what?" Kowalski asked, looking up and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Process?" He offered, brow furrowing.

"Yeh, dattle do." Rico sighed.

The tactician blinked and nodded slightly before leaning back and lying flat against the concrete, hair strewn about his head and hands knotted over his stomach.

"I find that when things get too much you have to get back to the simple things, stable things. Like stars." He sighed, eyes reflecting the cosmos and lips quirking into a bitter sweet smile.

Quietly Rico shuffled until he was lying next to the scientist. Back cold against the concrete and head tilted directly into the glimmering sweep of silver. His heart hammered as he strained his gaze against the sky, the image like a toddler had sprinkled glitter on black card.__

_I feel like a hero and you are my heroine  
>Do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?<em>

"Stars are just burning balls of hydrogen gas suspended in the sky. Even the closest, alpha centauri is thousands of light years away from us, did you know that? Anyway, the hydrogen is burning going through nuclear fusion turning it into heleium…"

Rico closed his eyes, listening to the gentle rhythm of Kowalski's voice the soothing tone warming him inside. For what anybody would call sinning, it sure felt good to him. He breathed deeply, fisting his hands to keep them from darting over and clutching the scientists. __

_And I feel a weakness coming on  
>Never felt so good to be so wrong<br>Had my heart on lockdown  
>And then you turned me around<br>I'm feeling like a new born child  
>Every time I get a chance to see you smile<br>It's not complicated  
>I was so jaded<em>

"Rico are you listening to me?" When his eyes snapped open he almost had a heart attack. the Scientists face was hovering over his own, mouth turned into a light hearted grin, a chuckle rumbling from his throat. "I suppose if I bore you that much-"

He was cut off as Rico swung an arm out, attempting to get away from the potentially dangerous situation only to have it sweep Kowalski's arm out from under him, sending him falling forward. With one arm slung over his chest and head resting on it the tactician blinked a few times, attempting to still the blurring world. Rico knew that Kowalski would be able to feel his hammering heart and rapid pulse, but at that moment he didn't care. He could feel the resistance to his feelings slipping, weakness grabbing hold and forcing his hands to cup the pale angled face of his team mate. With a dry mouth he dared to met the others eyes.

A confused but relaxed stare met his own panicky and indecisive one. But it felt right to have Kowalski's head in his hands, his body warmth against his own. Wrong shouldn't feel that right.

Slowly he lent in, the tacticians eyes widening, yet no objections leaving his mouth. The inner heat mounted like the crest of a wave, the barriers around his heart crumbling to ash in the fires.

As his nose brushed the others he took a sharp intake of breath. He was tired of fighting his emotions, mentally drained from the continuous battle. It really wasn't so hard. Everything about Kowalski drew him in, the arrogant spark in his eyes, the science raves no one could understand the almost crazy grins that came with a successful invention. It was a childlike happiness that he had suppressed time and time again.

Never again.

Gently he brushed his lips against the Tacticians, retreating slightly before closing in again and pressing them firmly against his. __

_And you caught me off guard  
>Now I'm running and screaming<em>

He froze as a soft sensation erupted, the icy feeling broken as Kowalski tenderly and slowly began to return the lip-lock.__

_I feel like a hero and you are my heroine  
>Do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?<em>

Rico pulled back, confusion and desperation lining his eyes. Kowalksi smiled, biting his bottom lip, and shuffling into a sitting position, pulling Rico up with him.

"If that was all that was bothering you why didn't you just say?" He laughed slightly, Swinging his knees underneath him and gripping his hands in his lap. The wind was buffering his hair from his eyes, pushing it back and keeping it out of his pale blue eyes.

Rico forced down a cry. Was Kowalski saying what he thought he was saying, or did the words have another implication?__

_(I feel like a hero and you are my heroine)  
>And I feel a weakness coming on<br>Never felt so good to be so wrong  
>Had my heart on lockdown<br>And then you turned me around  
>(Do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?)<br>I'm feeling like a new born child  
>Every time I get a chance to see you smile<br>It's not complicated  
>I was so jaded<em>

Rico swallowed and scrabbled blindly for the paper and pen, tearing off the last note and sweeping the biro across the page. Clicking the pen off again he studied the note. Was it really worth it?

With hopes set in the clouds and fear settling in his bones he turned the pad around to face the Scientist.

_I love you._

Smiling almost madly Kowalski snagged the pen and scoured it across the page in return, not even pausing once with the jerky hand writing. He sat back and slipped the pen behind his ear and motioned for Rico to turn the page back around. __

_(I feel like a hero and you are my heroine)  
>And I feel a weakness coming on<br>Never felt so good to be so wrong  
>Had my heart on lockdown<br>And then you turned me around  
>(Do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?)<br>I'm feeling like a new born child  
>Every time I get a chance to see you smile<br>It's not complicated  
>I was so jaded<em>

It took him a moment to decipher the message. But it was worth it when he did.

_I love you too._

**Yeah. I'm a Kico fangirl. Sue me.**

**So, that's pretty much it, and can I recommend that if you haven't heard this song that you open another tab and do so now! But aside from this **_**epic **_**song I'd like to say that I'm taking requests!**

**So yeah, either send me a song and a pairing or a little sort of summary for a drabble you'd like to see. It doesn't even have to be a pairing! Oh, and nothing M rated please.**

**I will not do it if you just send me a word. I NEED MORE THAN THAT! Yeah. My imagination fails occasionally. **

**Also, if you know a lot about Hans or Blowhole's personalities could you pretty, pretty please PM me with the details? So far I haven't seen any episode with Dr. Blowhole in it. I saw one episode with Hans in it, but have a funny feeling that that wasn't the only one. If it was, well, poop.**

**TAKING CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISIM, PLEASE REVIEW BECAUSE OF THIS WEIRDLY LONG AUTHORS NOTE!**

**Peace out mother truckers. XD **


	2. Chapter 2

**5 review. This is a dream isn't it? Never before have I gotten 5 reviews on the FIRST chapter. Seriously, one of the best days of my life waking up and finding that. **

**Thank you for all the requests! It's awesome how many I got, and it's fun attempting to put a spin on what others see! But just a quick note, when requesting Song-fics would it be possible not to use Songs written in a foreign language? I know it's not too difficult to look up a translation but Still, I find it so much easier to work with songs I understand fully.**

**But don't worry CrazeTheWaffleCat, I'll still do yours!**

**So without further ado, This goes out to Crazy-Pairing-Girl! Great choice in pairing BTW!**

_**Song: Speak now by Taylor Swift.  
>Pairing: Kico. (Kowalski and Rico.)<strong>_

Rico slipped through the window, dropping lightly to the dusty ground of the old church. Standing he reached into his suit jacket and plucked some of the old withered leaves from down the back of his collar, crumbling the auburn foliage into dust and shaking them from his hands.

Light spilled from the three small windows onto the cold concrete, the pale sunlight barely enough to light the basement where he was standing. It was small, compact and filled with Religious items and boxes. The strong Musty smell was choking as he wove between the stacks of candles and bibles placed seemingly just to annoy him. He paused at the Large poster of a man nailed to a cross.

'_This is just stupid. Kowalski's not religious!' _He thought, briefly recalling the time he had gotten into a fight with a bishop over their opposing opinions on who or what created the earth. It had been funny at the time, watching Kowalski face off against this bear of a man who looked like he wanted to pound the scientist with the bible he was holding. Now the memory was laced with faint regret.

_I am not the kind of girl  
>Who should be rudely barging in<br>On a white veil occasion  
>But you are not the kind of boy<br>Who should be marrying the wrong girl_

Quietly he turned and slunk over to the stairs, taking them two at a time to the small wood door the top. He tested it and sure enough it was locked. Frowning he fished the Paperclip from his pocket and unwound it, jamming the tip into the lock. He hated doing this, sneaking into a day that was supposed to be about a mutual love and the joining of two people for the rest of their lives. The very thing he was trying to stop.

The door gave, handle turning freely and swinging open into the corridor. He pressed himself into the shadows as a group of people passed, all chattering light-heartedly amongst themselves. He sighed and straightened up, adjusting the violent red tie he was wearing and slipped into the hall, darting down it and swinging around the corner just in time to avoid the burly father of the bride as he plodded down the passageway, feet clumping against the rug with a ground jarring thud.

He had the urge to hurl something at the brute, but fought it down as the reason he was sneaking into his team-mates wedding disappeared from view. Growling slightly under his breath Rico stepped back into sight after a group of tittering old ladies in their 60's. __

_I sneak in and see your friends  
>And her snotty little family<br>All dressed in pastel  
>And she is yelling at a bridesmaid<br>Somewhere back inside a room  
>Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry<em>

As the entered the hall He stepped away from them and quickly converged towards the largest groups of people, attempting to act relaxed, like he was supposed to be there. He caught sight of Private and Skipper over by the opposite door, Skipper keeping well away from the pale pastel coloured blobs in his stark black suit and black tie. Private was dressed in the exact same way, both of them looking more fit for going to a funeral than a wedding. Their matching saddened expressions didn't do anything to help the matter either. He didn't dare approach them, he could see Loraine Watching them with her beady little black eyes, waiting for him to show his 'ugly scarred face' as she had so _lovingly_ behind closed doors.

The tiny insect like woman had made her feelings for all the remaining commandos pretty clear upon their first meeting, her husband Rob not even attempting to hide that he hated Skipper, private and him with a burning passion. Perhaps it was because they were all drunk and partying in Rogers bar to celebrate Kowalski's birthday when his Girlfriend decided that her parents should meet them all. However, while Skipper and Private had consumed the exact same amount of alcohol as he had they hadn't been messing about with the tactician and attempting to get him all flustered by sitting in his lap or Touching him near constantly and calling him cute every time he told him to stop.

Naturally this hadn't gone down well with the Snobs and they had promptly dropped his name from the wedding list they were already planning. Heck, Kowalski didn't even know that he would be marrying her! It kind of happened out of the blue when the rather round man waddled up to him and asked him when he was going to but ring on his beautiful daughters finger.

The wedding was as a bigger shock to the groom than the bride.

Seeing the mother of the bride scuttling towards the group he had blended into Rico turned and sprinted from the room and into an adjoining hall.

He was mildly surprised to hear tears, the sound muffled by the worn oak door it was coming from behind. Glancing around to make sure that Rob hadn't appeared to 'pound his gay face in' he padded over to the door and pressed an ear against the stale scented oak.

_This is  
>Surely not what you thought it would be<br>I lose myself in a daydream  
>Where I stand and say<em>

"Michaela I can't do it! I can't marry him!" The voice was distraught, stretched thin and filled with despair. "I don't love him, I never did!"

Rico felt his heart strings twang inside his ribcage, the unhappy sobs playing him like a bass guitar.

"Shhhhh." The other voice countered, the warm tone soothing but hidden with un undercurrent of stress. "Relax Doris, You said that he was a nice guy, what's wrong with him then?"

There was a paused, layered with hitched breathing. "I don't love him like I love James. He's not the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, he's the one my parents want me to spend the rest of my life with!" She cried.

Rico Bit his lower lip as the maid of honour stepped into to calm her frazzled friend again. As much as he was pissed at Doris for all those years of breaking Kowalski's heart he couldn't help but want to go in there and comfort the dolphin researcher.

Clenching his teeth together Rico Sloped off down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, Shoulders hunched up and muscles tensed. He breezed through the doors into the actual chapel, already scanning the pews for any hiding spot he could take. A floral pink name card stuck out at him from where it had slid down the slope on the pew.

_Skipper._

Confusion fell on him, He knew that Loraine's sons would be the best men, but why on earth were Skipper, private, Marlene and Rodger seated so far back? With brows furrowed he contemplated the distance between the altar and the Pew. From such a distance it would be difficult just to distinguish the expressions on the wedding party's faces.

A low murmur caught his attention, sending his heart vaulting up into his throat. He dropped to the dusty ground and rolled under the wooden bench, arms pinned under his chest and head pressed against the underside of the wood. With adrenaline starting to pump into his veins he waited.

The door creaked and cat quiet foot-steps approached. With wide eyes the weapons expert waited and watched as a pair of legs stalked past. He clamped his eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath, heart hammering like a humming bird. When they opened he had to choke back a gasp.

Carefully he edged away from the shoes that were now only inches from his face. Keeping his breathing light and slow he studied the shiny black dress shoes. He could have sworn he had seen them before.

It hit him. They were Kowalski's shoes, the same ones he was wearing when Rico had stolen one off his feet in his lab. He smiled slightly at the memory of Kowalski Hopping down the hallway after him as he tauntingly waved the shoe about.

The scientist heaved a sigh. "I just wish he were here." He mumbled, the weight shifting from foot to foot as he sifted around in the pew and stepped out into the isle.

Rico pressed him palms flat against the wood floor, ready to jump to his feet and comfort his morose team-mate when an obnoxious laugh cut the thought off at the root.

"Kowalski, Man Dad was getting worried you'd done a runner on 'em!"

Rico heard the tense note in Kowalskis voice. "Ah, no. I'm still present as you can see Bruce."

A higher whiny voice entered the conversation. "Ready to tie the knot eh Kowalski?"

The weapons expert paused, holding his breath as he heard the scientist mumble. "Sure."

_Don't say yes, run away now  
>I'll meet you when you're out<br>Of the church at the back door  
>Don't wait or say a single vow<br>You need to hear me out  
>And they said "speak now"<em>

The words stung almost as much as when Kowalski had told them he was engaged, they cut like an acid soaked knife to skin. Rico bit his lip and turned his attention to the cobweb covered wood above his head, blocking out the conversation and the hurt that was ripping his heart in two.

Self-inflicted anger hit him hard, the furious feeling bursting like a match to gasoline in the pit of his stomach. How many chances had he had to tell Kowalski how he had felt, to look him in the eye and tell him with all his honesty that he loved him?

'_Like hell I'm going to loose him to Doris.' _He hissed inwardly.

_Fond gestures are exchanged  
>And the organ starts to play<br>A song that sounds like a death-march  
>And I am hiding in the curtains<br>It seems that I was uninvited  
>By your lovely bride-to-be<em>

People began to file in, Feet shuffling and ever pleasant small talk being exchanged between third cousins and half-sisters of their mother's uncle or something. Loraine had been adamant that they fill up the church with people, witch in other words meant every living person to even be related to the bride in anyway. Convinced with the story Kowalski was an orphan they decided to basically reject anyone that the male wanted there. Marlene, Skipper and Private were there because of him and that was as far as the list stretched. Rodger was there because he was related in some way to Robs step sister. But upon hearing that he had history with Skipper and Private he was instantly thrown in with their crowd up the back.

He didn't notice until the wood creaked that this team-mates had arrived, Black tree-trunks sprouting up and blocking his view of the next pew.

"Hey Skippah, do you think that Rico's not coming?" Private asked innocently, legs shuffling and moving as he did.

Rolling his eyes The weapons expert reached out and grabbed hold of one of his ankles. Private yelped and leapt about an inch of his seat, the droning hum of voices pausing for a moment before continuing.

Skipper sighed. "Look at that Private, you made me drop my pen." He turned and knelt down, passing a stern look to the sheepish looking male in hiding. "I'm glad to see you soldier, but next time a little more warning, less scare."

Rico nodded, running a hand over the back of his neck.

"When the service starts, well bring you up, if you stay low they'll hardly notice and if they do I highly doubt they'll stop the wedding for it" Skipper added. "Till then stay low."

"Skipper who are you talking to?" The doubtful feminine voice asked.

The Commando stood, wiping dust off his black dress pants. "Rico. So don't freak when we bring him up."

Marlene sighed and edged into the seat. "Right. I'm just not going to ask next time."

"So he did come? Oh how nice!" Rodger added, shuffling about in the pew.

Without warning the sound of 50 cats being inhumanly slaughtered reached his ears as the first few screechy notes were slammed out on the pipe organ. Rico clamped his hands over his ears and grimaced at the awful noise.

_She floats down the aisle  
>Like a pageant queen.<br>But I know you wish it was me  
>You wish it was me (Don't cha?)<em>

As the Grinding wail of the tortured instrument continued, Rico was briefly aware of the audible gasps that went up. He assumed that the Bride had entered. Weather the reaction was good or bad was still unconfirmed.

A slip of paper fell on the floor. Pouncing on it he opened it to reveal a biro stick figure wearing a pie and in Privates linked writing the caption,

_Doris looks like she's wearing a pastry!_

Rico smiled at the note. Maybe it was confirmed on if the reaction was good or bad.

A foot connected with his rib cage. Rubbing the hurt flesh he glanced over. Skippers hand was waving upwards, Marlene shifting to her right at the same time. Turning was hard in the small dark space but after a rather Savio like manoeuvre he was able to squeeze out from under the bench and slip into his seat, sparing a wide grin of thanks to the four around him.

He lent forward slightly, clenching his hands in his lap and chewing on his lip. The Golden-haired Bride was standing there, one hand limply holding Kowalski's and the other wrapped around her upper arm, hugging herself tightly. Private was right, The dress looked like it had been made in some sort of bakery. Kowalski wasn't even watching the vicar as he spoke, eyes instead staring out the window, pale blue irises cloudy and uninterested.__

_Don't say yes, run away now  
>I'll meet you when you're out<br>Of the church at the back door  
>Don't wait or say a single vow<br>You need to hear me out  
>And they said "speak now"<em>

He couldn't help but smile at the sight of his team-mate. Whilst Rico knew he looked awkward and stiff whenever he dressed up there was some charm to Kowalski that made it work. When he wore it Tux it looked like he had just woken up and thrown it on. With a simple light blue tie it looked like he belonged in the audience, not up about to get married. __

_Don't say yes, run away now  
>I'll meet you when you're out<br>Of the church at the back door  
>Don't wait or say a single vow<br>Your time is running out  
>And they said, "speak now"<em>

Rico took a deep breath as the rather short vicar began to speak with a very low level of interest in his voice. Kowalski's eyes flipped to his soon-to-be wife's face and were looking rather distressed from what little Rico could see.

He clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip, fighting the tremors that were starting to shake him. His eyes prickled irritatingly as he dragged a hand over them angrily, frustration building.

'_Relax.' _ He thought. _'One chance to get this right.'_ __

_Oh Oh Oh! ( said speak now... )_

'_I only hope like hell he feels the same.'_

_I hear the preacher say  
>"Speak now or forever hold your peace"<br>There's the silence, there's my last chance  
>I stand up with shaking hands<br>All eyes on me_

The small man sighed and looked out towards the pastel covered people who were now on the edge of their seats, eyes wide and eager.

"If any of you have any reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace." He droned inexpressively.

Obviously not expecting what happened next.

In the silence that followed Rico placed his hand on Skippers knee, the only way he could think to apologize for what he was about to do. He rose to his feet rather unsteadily, almost falling onto the pew in front of him.

"Soldier what are you doing?" Skipper cried. __

_Horrified looks from  
>Everyone in the room<br>But I'm only looking at you._

This caught everyone's attention. All the glassy eyes in the room swivelled around to watch the weapons expert tremble. Rather jerkily he put his shoulders back, and lifted his head, although proud to be the source of the gasps and frantic whispering.

But it all faded into the background, the burning laser like stares that scorched his skin, the horrified whispers and Loraine screaming for answers as too how he got in from her husband, who was twice as angry as she was. It all took a backseat to the beautiful bittersweet expression on Kowalski's face. __

_I am not the kind of girl  
>Who should be rudely barging in<br>On a white veil occasion  
>But you are not the kind of boy<br>Who should be marrying the wrong girl!_

No. Doris wasn't the one for him, Rico knew that with every tingling fibre of his being.

Kowalski watched him. '_Go on. Say what you have to say.' _His eyes seemed to be saying, the pale blue drawing him in.__

_So don't say yes, run away now  
>I'll meet you when you're out<br>Of the church at the back door  
>Don't wait or say a single vow<br>You need to hear me out  
>And they said, "speak now!"<em>

It had taken him weeks of standing in front of a mirror and straining his already defected vocals in order to get what he wanted.

In a voice as clear as shattered crystal Rico spoke.

"I object."

"What proof do you have that these two shouldn't be married!" Loraine screamed, face crimson with rage as she pounced to her feet and glared at him over the heads of her family. With her small stature and toothpick thin limbs she looked almost like a red fire ant, A very angry red fire ant.

Rico froze, eyes dulling suddenly and shoulders slumping. What proof did he have? There was his heart but… It had to be legal. There was a deathly silence, the air around them filled with tension as the woman began to grin.

"You don't have any do you?" She sneered. With an arrogant air she turned back to the vicar and waved a hand loftily. "Continue. He has no proof!

_And you say  
>Let's run away now<br>I'll meet you when I'm out  
>Of my tux at the back door<br>Baby, I didn't say my vows  
>So glad you were around when they said<br>Speak Now ___

"He doesn't need any."

It was the first time Kowalski had spoken since his conversation with Doris's brothers. He let his hand slither from the tanned girls grasp and drop back at his side as he stepped towards the isle. His face held a warm soft smile, eyes locked on Rico's.

"I object."

For a moment Rico could have sworn he had blacked out. The world went like the shutter of a camera, one second he was struggling to stand and quivering in the pews, the next he fell into Kowalski's arms as the tactician raced down the aisle to meet him.

With his heart hammering with the adrenaline rushing through his body he burrowed his head into Kowalski's shoulder, struggling to breathe for reasons he didn't understand. He felt the warmth of the scientist's breath on his ear, as the arms around his torso gripped him tighter.

"I am so glad you came. I'm even happier you stopped me from throwing my life away."

Rico couldn't help the crazy smile that sprouted onto his face as he grabbed the tacticians hand and sprinted down the aisle.

"Ru' 'way wi' me?" He laughed.

Kowalski picked up the pace, the small grin spreading and getting bigger. "As if you had to ask."

**Hope you like it Crazy-Pairing-Girl! Like seriously. I am not a fan of Taylor swift and I listened to her on repeat for about 4 hours. Still, I got some good writing out of it, so thanks!**

**And yes. It is too long. Thanks for noticing!**

**So… send in requests or constructive critisisim! Or both… that would be cool…**

**Next up… SKILENE! I think… hold on, lemme check…**

**Yeah, it is skilene.**

**K. THX, BIEEEEEEE! **


	3. Chapter 3

**HIDIE HO!**

**Sorry, in a weird mood. And guess what? No weirdly long authors note! HURRAH!**

**However I have to thank Crazy-Pairing-Girl for the new request.  
>THANKS! :D<strong>

**And too Adenn666, Here is you're Skilene!**

_**Pairing: Skilene (Skipper and Marlene)**_

The pen fell onto the wood with a small thudding sound. Scrutinising the draft papers Skipper heaved a sigh and dropped them into the desk draw, it would do for now. He flicked off the small back desk lamp and fumbled blindly in the dark for the door.

Sweeping down into the living room Skipper was mildly surprised at the scene he saw. The curtains were drawn tightly and the lights overhead were turned off, the warm fire like glow of the space coming from the few small lamps scattered around the room.

Rico was kneeling in front of the coffee table, tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration as another fold was scoured through the paper in front of him. Julien, Mort and Private were all on their own edge, watching and following the weapons expert as he made another crease, occasionally stopping to change or re-fold one of theirs. Maurice was sitting on the couch, nodding at something Kowalski was saying as the scientist angled his clip-board towards the kings advisor.

"Kowalski, may I have a word…?" Skipper asked, voice low and slightly dangerous.

The second in command paused and looked over before briefly excusing himself from the conversation and making his way over to the team leader.

Skipper waved a hand at the scene in front of them, agitation surely creeping onto his face. "What's the meaning of all this soldier?" He demanded quietly, fixing his pale-eyed team-mate with a hard stare.

Kowalski cleared his throat and tucked his pencil behind one ear. "I thought it would be for the best to keep them here for a little while, just to make sure no emotional or psychological trauma has arisen."

Skipper nodded. "That I understand, but what is with the blankets and Origami?"

"they have all gone through a rather unsettling experience, and a few of the main caused for trauma are if it happens unexpectedly, you felt powerless to prevent it, you were unprepared for it or someone was intentionally cruel. These factors all occurred during the situation with Savio." He lifted a page in his clip-board and scrutinized the writing. "I found out that basil and sage tea with honey is a good for anybody who has experienced a shock. The Blankets were Rico's Idea and the origami is just to stop Julien and Mort breaking things." He added, now tucking the green clip-board under his arm.

"Good use of initiative Kowalski. But where is Marlene?"

He frowned, flipping his fringe out of his eyes. "Well I don't know. She vanished the moment we arrived back at the apartment block."

Skipper nodded and stepped back towards the door, waving a hand dismissively. "Keep doing what you're doing, I'm going to go find her."

Not bothering to wait for the reply to soldier jogged from the room, closing the door with a solid click behind him. The beige and blue hallway was quiet, only the few muffled voices breaking the wall of silence. Rocking on his toes skipper bounded off towards the stairwell, foot-steps light and cat-like.

'_Now if I had been taken hostage by a cannibalistic contortionist from the Hoboken prison, where would I go?' _He questioned briefly, leaping up the stairs and onto the next floor. _'Home.'_

Skipper hesitated, hand hovering over the worn gold door-knob and contemplated knocking on the door instead of just barging in.

'_Eh, barging's my thing.' _He decided and let the door swing open into the brunettes apartment. It was dark inside, Blue flickering light running over the basic outlines of the woman's furniture. Slowly he crept inside, letting the door breeze close with a soft snap. The perky chat-show host looked out of place in the ominous room, her bubbly ramblings muted.

"Marlene? You in here?" Skipper called, the sound of his own voice strange in the cold feeling space.

There was a stifled response from the couch, but no figure there. Drawing himself forward on slow steps he peered around the side of the furniture.

Marlene was huddled next to it, knees pulled up into her chest and head bowed forward. Her hands were shaking, eyes wide and incandescent as the caught the light of the television screen. Skipper gasped slightly, mouth parted slightly as he took in her psychical appearance. The usually tidy High-ponytail she sported was hanging by her neck, fringe messy and ruffled and locks of hair pulled out from the hairband. The olive skin was tear-stained and covered in purplish bruises.

He sank to the ground and reached out, laying a hand on her knee. "Marlene, what happened to you."

She blinked, a few more salty droplets falling in response. Slowly her head turned, eyes darting ahead of it. They flickered with the barest minimum of recognition. Her mouth opened like she was speaking, but the words came three seconds to late.

"Savio." She whispered. Her voice was hoarse and strained, pulled tight like the rope in tug-o-war.

Skipper's brows furrowed in concern as gently wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. "Yeah… But why are you sitting here in the dark?" He asked softly, eyes searching her hazel ones desperately.

She bit her bottom lip, and Skipper noticed the scabs on it, from where she had obviously drawn blood. "It's easier to hide." She replied, shedding more tears as her face crumpled.

The team leader didn't hesitate as he slid into the gap next to her, allowing her to fall into him. Her chest started to heave with heavy sobs, her cries muffled by her face being pressed into his shirt. He draped his arms around her, hoping it would help. He felt awkward in the situation, unsure of how to help her. Emotions were Private's thing he mused as he studied the peeling wallpaper across from him, framing the dusty old radiator.

"I-I thought he was Kidding…" Marlene sobbed, desperately clinging to the team leader. "I thought it was some sick joke-" she broke off again.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Shhh, Shhh…" He crooned, rocking back and forth slightly. "You're safe now… He's gone, he won't hurt you again." He paused, dropping his gaze to her pale face. "I promise." He mumbled thickly.

"He would have done it." She cried. "He would have picked our bones clean, he told me, he told me you weren't coming!" She wailed, balling her hands into fists with clumps of his shirt inside them as she pounded them against his chest.

Skipper ran his hands in circles over her back. "He was lying. I was always coming for you Marlene, I told you that I wo-" He broke off, mildly confused as to the wet patch on her side. Leaning over and squinting his eyes in the light he gasped and pushed her away.

"Oh my god." He breathed, pulling her shirt up and away from the wound. The blood surrounding the site was thick and sticky like syrup, still slowly oozing from the deep jagged puncture wound. It wasn't clean, not like it had been cut, but like it had been broken by a dull surface with plenty of force behind it. The twin crescent moon shapes were surrounded by deep purple bruises and smeared blood. Gently he grazed his fingers over the deep split head shaking slightly in disbelief and hurt.

"He bit you?"

She screwed her eyes shut as the slow drizzling teas turned into a downpour. "Don't hurt me. I didn't do anything." She wailed, hands clenching into her chest. "Keep away, I didn't hurt anybody, I don't want to die." Suddenly she tossed her head back in a blood curdling scream, body thrashing as the cry morphed into more uncontrolled sobbing. "Oh god, Skipper, Skipper!" She wailed between the breathless weeping.

"I'm here, Babe I'm here." He shouted over her howling, fear coursing through his veins as he grabbed her wrists and yanked her into a hug, one hand caressing her hair and the other keeping her there. Skipper closed his eyes against the emotions that were passing and burrowed his head into her shoulder, not wanting to fall victim to the bone shattering heartache hooking him around the middle.

"Make him stop." She whispered desperately.

Skipper swallowed. "Come back to me, He can't hurt you now." He murmured.

"Make the pain stop."

Skipper gripped her tighter. "I want to, come on Marlene, and come back. Come home."

"He wants to hurt me…"

"I'll never let him." He vowed, _'Never again…'_

Slowly her chest slowed in rate, heart creeping back down like a frightened animal, pulse falling into a gentle rhythm. Skipper's doing the mirror image under her hand.

Darkness clawed at the edge of her mind, snapping and twisting like caged monsters at the warmth and solidness that beat them back fiercely. A soft thrumming was pulsing relentlessly through her as the ground dispersed at her feet, a strong hold supporting her and fighting back the beasts that swarmed her shattered thoughts. It was the first real thing since being dragged into the stone room and left defenceless. Her wrists and feet had been bound tightly with burgundy cloth, Mouth left free so she could scream herself silly in the sound proof space. She could see his glittering snake like eyes as he lashed a kick at her face, the pain ripping through like his teeth passed through skin.

"_Insanity always tastes better."_ He purred, lifting her by her hair to be on eye level with him as she howled in pain and desperation.

But none of it scared her anymore, the constant drum beat of Skippers heart lulling her into the peaceful black oblivion she craved.

O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*

Kowalski sighed and looked up, eyes dull with exhaustion and thinning patience. "All vitals are fine Skipper. The wounds are clear and she seems to be in a deep stage of non-REM sleep."

Skipper nodded curtly. "And that means?"

"Stages three or four are the deepest stages in our sleep cycles, with stage four more instance then stage 3. These are often referred to a slow wave or delta sleep. During these stages the body repairs and regenerates tissues, builds bone and muscle and appears to strengthen the immune system as well." He said calmly. "This will be good for her."

"Very well." Skipper said eventually.

As the scientist moved to exit the team leaders room he caught a hand to the chest, holding him there as the commanding officer turned to him, voice low and pitched with anger.

"How is it you know all that, but miss a bloodstain the size of Utah on her side?" He hissed, blue eyes flashing.

Kowalski held his ground, chin up and meeting his gaze evenly. "I'm sorry about that Skipper, but my first priority was on getting them out of the building alive, and in all honesty there was blood everywhere." His shoulders slumped slightly, eyes flickering with hurt as they passed over to the sleeping woman. "Savio treated her much worse than the others, more reported abrasions and contusions than on Mort, Maurice and Private combined. She will take longer to heal."

Skipper dropped his hand and gaze. "Thank you soldier, your work was a large contributing factor to saving these lives. Go rest." He mumbled.

Kowalski dipped his head and breezed past the team leader, closing the door behind him as he left.

Face dusted with pain Skipper walked over to his bed and gingerly sat on the edge of it, reaching over and laying one of his hands over Marlene's, squeezing it slightly for comfort as he watched her sleeping face.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He murmured a small bittersweet smile on his face. "You scared me so much tonight, and I'm still scared."

He paused, turning himself around and bending over her, lips hovering inches from her ear. "I don't want you to go through this again, so I won't tell you this when you wake up. If someone were to find out I loved you, you would be in more danger than you are now." He breathed, gently brushing her hair back from her face. "And that is more than enough."

He lay a soft kiss on her mottled cheek, lips barely brushing the skin before pulling back. Running is thumb over the area afterwards like he was rubbing away the evidence.

"I love you. And I'm not leaving you." Skipper said, now clasping her hand between his. "I promise."

**Damn corny endings. I AM NOT AMUSED!  
>Also something seems off about the story. I just can't pick it… <strong>

**Oh well. Savio is as cannibal, so yay for mindless violence in a romance fic!**

**Anybody want to request Marlene/Savio?**

**Ah well. Up next is… DUN DUN DAAAAAAH, SKANS :D.**

**BTW, these don't all have to be song-fics.**

**So anyway, until next time,**

**Cheese. **


	4. Chapter 4

**HOLA AMGIAS/AMEGOS!**

**Yeah. I learn French at school.  
>THANK GOD FOR ONE OF MY BEST MATES LEARNING SPANISH! XD<strong>

_Song: Magnet by __Megurine Luka and Hatsune Miku  
><em>_Pairing__: Skans. (Skipper and Hans)_

The shadows were comforting, flicking with every scratch of his pen against the paper in front of him. The warm amber glow emananting from the desk lamp next to him, the blown glass covered in the scene of some country feild. The hay was long and blown back by some sort of wind the auburn trees twisting and turning above, locked in some internal conflict. The sky had even been washed out to a yellowey hue, sun a blistering force in the picture.

The lamp wasn't his. It was Johnson's. She had always loved the lamp, the sweet scene reminding her of her easy childhood. Manfredi's lucky bracelet lay from where it had been threaded around it after his death, the girls enamourment with the lamp only increasing after that had happened. The thin silver chain was covered in a strange assortment of everything from paperclips and bottle-tops threaded onto it, something to represent everything he held dear. But strategically placed in the center of the chain was a small yin-yang symbol, witch folded open to reveal a pictures of himself Johnson and Manfredi.

He cast his gaze away from the items and turned back to the report he was supposed to be writing. The letters blurred and slid around the page with his fatiuge and he slowly lay the pen down, head following. The misson had been tough, but there had been no major injuries on his end.

A chill breeze stirred over his arms and Skipper shot up straight.

He hadn't opened the window.

His gaze swung over to the curtains that were now pulling and struggling in the wind. Instantly he moved to to door, blocking who evers exit if they tried to leave.

"Come out." He growled, body shifting into the fighting stance easily.

A strong voice came from the shadows, smothered by the accent even years in america couldn't sway. "Hello to you too Skipper."

_**A slender flame burns at the edge of my heart  
>Without warning, it spreads into a burning passion<br>My butterfly, flitting around it chaotically  
>Scales dropping into your hand<strong>_

'_Keep up Skippy, you know how Johnson gets!" Manfredi shouted, mouth quirking in his usual grin as he darted down the full corridor, brushing past people with ease thanks to his small, lithe build._

_Skipper swore and jogged after him, squshing by the onslaught of people as he attempted to fight his way through the mayhem. Half-hearted apologies tumbled from his mouth as he battled his way past. _

"_Watch it!" A snarky voice snapped and skipper instantly turned to adress the worman who had spoken. Her lips were broken and jagged from the multitue of scars, no doubt from the needly like fangs that protruded from her gums in a twisted and sickening fashion._

"_Uh, yeah sorry." He stammered, backing away from the furious woman. And sprinting away from her, shuddering violently. "F unit." He muttered under his breath, shooting a look over his shoulder to see if she was gone._

_A strong jolt sent him spinning to the floor, clutching his head and moaning painfully. Much to his surprise another groan joined his, harmonising strangely. Openening his eyes he was met by the sight of another boy about his age, rubbing his wrist and grimacing. His Black hair was ruffled, as if he had been running his hand through it all his life, eyes a light chestnut colour despite the fact his they were up he met the startle gaze of the agent._

"_I'm so-" They began that the same time, both cutting off as well only to have the other do the same. A grin passed between them as the smaller pushed the cardboard box off his lap and sat up, offeing his hand to the other. "My name is Hans Søpapegøjer, and you are?" He asked,voice thick with an accent Skipper couldn't place._

"_Uh, Skipper." He murmured, accepting the hand-shake and standing up. He dropped the limb like it had offended him, staring at it with a look of shock on his face. It had been so incredibly warm, like the boy had kept it in a fire all his life. Shaking off the oddity he cleared his throat "Just noticing... You're not from here are you?"_

_Hans shook his head. "No. I am from Denmark. Copenhagen to be naming names." He added, proving skippers earlier suspision and running a hand thorugh his ebony hair._

_He had a wide mouth Skipper noticed, nose also slightly larger than what should have been expected. Luckily his eyes seemed to blance it out, the almost red brown drawing attention away from the other parts of his face and rendering him actually very handsome. Skipper frowned in self-confusion, since when did strangers become handsome? _

_The other male frowned at the floor and knelt down, scraping together a pile of paper from the loose leaves lying around. Skipper hesitated before joining him, reasoning that johnson wouldn't chew his head off if he was being helpful in someway. _

"_Just out of curiosity, you are not a skipper, no?" Hans asked, dragging the cardboard box towards him and dropping the now tidy pile of papers in._

_Skipper chuckled and placed his own stack in afterwards. "Nah, I work under Johnson and Manfredi."_

_Hans paused, shooting him a strange look of realization and suspition. "Johnson, did she train you to fight?"_

_He nodded breifly. "Yeah." He was suddenly grinning. "She's training you isn't she?"_

_Hans dropped the strange stare and smiled, standing up off the floor. "Yes."_

_Skipper chuckled and passed him the box of files. "I'll be seeing you soon then, She's chosen to bring me to help her out."_

_Hans took it from him and slung it under one arm. "I am glad about that Skipper," He paused, turning away slightly. "You intruige me. Farewell." and with that he converged back into the crowd of people, vanishing from sight as Skipper stood watching him dissapear. _

"_Who's the new boyfriend Skippy?" Manfredi queried from behind him, forcing him to leap up into the air from shock. His heart was hammering in his ribcage, but hadn't it been doing that already? _

_**I am wrapped around your finger from the lips to the tongue  
>Even if this is something that cannot be allowed the flames jump higher still<strong>_

_He back flipped away from the kick, tip of the shoe just brushing past his nose, swinging a leg out only to have him leap away._

_Blue and brown met, both the soldiers creeping around, scouring their opponent for any weaknesses. The girl stood watch, wicked green eyes scanning them for any flaws. Skipper lunged, feinting to one side before darting to the other, momentarily confusing the Dane. He swung out, but the blow was blocked, just like he had expected it to be. Their eyes met for a split second, friendly rivalry glimmering behind them as another punch was swung. _

_The girl stepped forward, hands spread wide and lips curling into a wild grin. "You two are way too evenly matched. I reckon you could keep going until someone collapses from exhaustion!" She praised, one hand moving to her hip. "But if this had been a real battle, and you were actually fighting each other, what would you do to try gain the upper hand?"_

_Skipper gave an almost crazy looking smile, "Try psyche them out, get inside their head, make them contemplate their every move." _

_Johnson snapped her fingers. "Correct. However that wouldn't work on you. You're already paranoid."_

_Hans smirked as his friend gave a sharp retort to the blonde. "Admit it skipper. You are rather paranoid." _

_He faltered slightly, watching as the girl strode off to correct another sparring pair. Hans chuckled. _

"_So you see my argument?" He lay a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with mischief in his eyes. "Do you wish to spar again?"_

_Skipper nodded, slipping away from the warmth on his shoulder, swallowing to get rid of the lump in his throat. Even without realizing it he could hear a small voice in the back of his mind calling to him._

'_it would never be allowed…'_

_**I want to embrace you, I want you to tell me  
>That you don't think this is a mistake<br>I want you to kiss me, I want you to remake me  
>I want to drown in this moment of captivation<strong>_

_He tossed in his bunk, curling the duvet up around himself as he glared at the clock miserably. It rang out, reading 12:56am, mocking his inability to sleep. The blankest were bunched and tossed about from all his twisting and turning that night. As heavy as his eye-lids felt sleep seemed opposed to accepting him, shoving him away disdainfully and keeping him wide awake. _

_Skipper moaned and flung himself onto his back, knotting his hands behind his head and staring at the bed above him, the multicolored mattress and interlocking metal pieces. It did nothing to erase the guilt that was rising in his throat with every second that passed. Soldiers kept their mind on their work, they didn't have time for love._

_They definitely didn't have room for possibly being bi-sexual._

_He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, hoping to ward off both the invasive thoughts and the muffled shouts from both Manfredi and Johnson as they argued behind closed doors. He considered going to join them but decided against it in case he finally managed to win the battle for the land of nod. _

_It hurt. It hurt knowing that he liked one of his good friends in that way, a way that he really shouldn't. And what felt like the final blow to a downed man was that he may and possibly felt the same, and yet he couldn't do anything about in fear of any negative repercussions that would strike not only him but the one he loved. _

'_Love?' he mused. Was that it? Did he love Hans?_

_It was playing with fire but briefly he allowed himself the tempting pleasure to recall how he had felt when Hans had tackled him to the floor, the warmth and dizzy sensation of falling increasing every time their skin made constant. What would it feel like just to be held? Not some crazy training exercise but just being held by the Dane, to hold him even!_

_He allowed his eyes to open a fraction. What would happen if he told him? In an ideal world he would feel the same, but what if he didn't? was it worth losing a friend to try be something more? And then there was the agency as well, what would they say?_

_Skipper exhaled. He couldn't deny there had been times when he had been lost just wondering what his lips would feel like against his own, or how it would be to hear his heart-beating. But it was crazy talk. Nothing would ever happen between them and he just had to accept it and let go of his deluded fantasies and get back to training and being a soldier._

_It was then he was being roughly shaken. "Skippy, wake up!" Manfredi's voice was as childish as ever but filled with impatience. _

_He jerked up right, narrowly avoiding the bunk above him and looked over at the pair standing in front of him. "I'm awake. What is it?" He asked, letting his gaze wander from Johnson's strangely almost strangled looking expressions to the blank canvas that was Manfredi's_

_The blonde sighed. "Skipper, an agent has been reported missing and Manfredi thinks he knows where he went. Can you just tell us something?"_

_Skipper nodded, turning to the ginger. "shoot." _

_Manfredi tilted his jaw upwards, eyes clear as they looked down. "What is Hans last name? all the files on him are gone and we need to know."_

_Skipper could feel his heart pick up pace as he scanned the pair of them, the gears turning in his mind fanatically. He shook his head slowly, disbelief of his face. "no… he's not."_

"_The name!" Manfredi snapped, shoulders suddenly slumping and eyes growing tired immediately afterwards. "Please skipper, I just have to know if my theory is right."_

"_Søpapegøjer." skipper spat. "Why do you need to know."_

_Manfredi sighed and gave johnson a meaningful look. "Translated into Danish? Puffin."_

_The girl squeesed her eyes shut and darted from the room into the hallway, cursing under her breath as she did._

"_Manfredi, what is going on!" skipper demanded angrilly, sitting up straighter and glaring at him. _

_He folded his arms and stared, pity in his eyes. "A group of terriorists have been attacking Denmark. Every where they go they leave a small picture of a puffin." He faltered. "Hans and all his files have been reported missing since 1600 hours. I think that he might not be the person we all thought he was." _

_**Every moment, it's harder to restrain myself  
>If this is love, I want to wear it on my sleeve<br>The "strange feeling" turns into an unbearable longing  
>I would follow you to the end of forever<strong>_

_There was a deep silence in the jeep, all three of the soldiers inside it lost inside the heavy fog of their own thoughts as they contemplated what was going to happen next. Skipper stared at Manfredi and Johnson, wishing he could see what was ticking over inside their heads. He was sure they thought Hans was guilty, but he couldn't be. And if he was, he wouldn't have done it intentionally, would he?_

_The internal conflict was making the black haired soldier sick to his stomach as he clenched his teeth to avoid screaming, just for the sake of screaming. It was anguish to not know, whether he could still love the one he did or whether it was time to throw in the towel and resign himself to hating him._

_What he had felt had almost doubled, mounting inside him and almost driving him mad with the crazy want to know. Everyone was speculating, all of them having ideas, but none of them were concrete facts yet._

_And for some reason it had seemed wrong to come here, too Denmark, too the mines where the next bombs were supposed to be. To follow Hans to where everyone expected him to be._

"_74 miles." Johnson said, voice cleverly devoid of all emotion._

_Skipper closed his eyes and let his hands drift over the gun in his possession, feeling every inch of it and reminding himself that it was there._

_And that if it came to it there would be a bullet with Hans name on it._

_**If my heart goes astray I will be easily relieved  
>as if we had no time to feel tender each other<br>That dream has never come again  
>There is no chance in our reality<strong>_

_There were gun-shots everywhere, bullets careening through the air and slamming into rock, wood and flesh. Cries and howls were flying about, chasing the blood that was splashing out onto the dusty ground. Skipper wasn't wasting time, ducking and dodging between fallen carts and piles of rubble, shooting at everything that moved._

_He hated to admit it but it felt good to be in his position. Running on pure adrenaline, tapping into that darker side of your nature that liked the bloodshed and chaos, and acting on instinct and responding with an animal like reaction to everything. _

_No warning signals came with the hard blow to the back of his head, not enough to kill, but enough to stun, carefully measured as the mystery attacker grasped his wrists and shoulder, tugging him backwards away from the fight. Skipper would have fought back, if he wasn't too bust with the fight against the vertigo and dizzy blurry vision. He was shoved against a wall in an off track of the main mine. _

"_I told you that if I ever left to never come try find me!" A voice hissed. A sharp slap across the face pulled him from the light-headed world and back to earth. "Why did you come!"_

"_Why did you leave?" He retorted, glaring up at the now cold chestnut eyes and ruffled black hair of the one he loved. Hans threw his head back and groaned, turning and starting to pace. _

"_You think my last name is a fake don't you?" He hissed, rounding back on the commando. "Well it is not, this is my father's organization. Mine to inherit when he passes." He glared voice hard and emotionless if not for the seething red angry note hidden inside it._

_The man against the wall returned the stare. "Have you considered not inheriting his o-"_

"_HE WILL KILL ME IF I DO NOT!" Hans shouted, grabbing Skippers face between his hands and dragging him closer as he sank to his knees. "Do you not see? I did everything he told me too, I followed all his rules and now, unless you die, I will." He hissed, eyes growing slick. "And I was the last to know he wanted you dead." He murmured._

_Skipper swallowed. "You don't have to do-"_

"_I have too. There is no choice in the matter." Hans growled, jerking Skippers head around to face him again when he tried to look away. "Listen to me skipper! I was never told to become your friend and I was never told to fall in love either!"_

"_What?" skipper pleaded, not wanting all the emotional stress that was being dumped on him, not to mention the battle that was still raging and that could claim his team-mates at any given moment. _

_But it all fell short in comparison to the warm lips that captured his own in those moments._

"_Skipper?"_

_**If we touch, I know we can never go back and that's just fine...  
>You are everything in the world to me<strong>_

_Hans leapt away, gun poised on Skipper as he stared up at Manfredi who was standing on the half collapsed wall between this track and the next, brown eyes wide and hands ready as he looked between Hans and Skipper equally confused and shocked. _

"_I will shoot Manfredi! Just do not make me!" Hans snarled, a slightly feral light entering his eyes as he stood with finger poised on the trigger._

_The ginger narrowed his eyes. "I don't want any problems __Søpapegøjer,__ so let him go and we can both get back to our sides of the fight." He let his gaze flicker noticeably between the two of them. "But at least I know what side I'm on."_

_A deep voice echoed the tunnel "Hans!"_

_All the pairs of eyes shot to the tall bulky man who now stood in the mouth of the tunnel, eyes cold and calculating as he stared at his son. Skipper briefly noticed that he had the same wide mouth and __nose as his son, but on him they just didn't hold the same charm. He waved a hand at the two soldiers._

"_Gå på__, __dræbe dem__begge__. __Du ved__hvad der forventes af__dig som__min søn__." He growled, watching the boy fericly._

_Skipper didn't know what the man was saying, being unable to understant Danish. But it became clear when Hans lifted the gun and fired, face blank and emotionless as he sent a bullet stright __though Manfredi's chest._

"_There." He grolwed._

_The man then turned on him, watching him as he breathed rapidly, eyes wide and scared."__Hvad med__, at __en__?" He chuckled._

_A bolt and fury shot though him at how easily this man could pass off death like that._

"_He is as good as dead father. You have not seen the wound on his back." Hans pressured his father, and when the man didn't move added. "We must move quick, there is another as quiet and skilled as a deadly viper."_

_The man smirked and turned away from the boy waltzing eaily down the passage. "__godt gået__, __kommer nu__for vi har__en masse__arbejde at gøre__være__-." He stopped speaking, and looked down at where an agonizing pain had exploded from his chest. And then dropped._

"_I'm sorry." Hans muttered, dropping the gun he had just used to slaughter his father and ran, faster than what skipper could comprehend in the small time frame. But he didn't stay still for long, standing and thowing himself over the crumbling wall, skidding down it and grazing his sides when he did. _

_Manfredi was barely alive. Hans shot off under the pressure of the moment obviously._

"_Oh my god!" He gasped, kneeling down next to the wounded soldier and pressing his hands over the bloodied wound, causing him to stir. "Don't worry Manfredi, well get you al-" He jibbered instantly, desperate to come up with the right words._

"_I'm not worried Skippy..." Manfredi coughed. "I'm as good as dead and you know it."_

_He let his hands fall back by his sides, now coated in the thick red blood of his comarade, shaking his head in disbelief at thow shortly his life had ended._

"_Skipper... For What ever the hell you wind up becoming... you have my blessing as a good mate and all round but-kicking guy." He gasped, body going into a spasm and clenching together tightly as he moaned quietly between his teeth. _

"_Manfredi don't, don't strai-" He whimpered when his left arm was suddenly draped on his thigh. _

"_Give It to her..." He hissed, breaking off into rapid breaths and a shallow heart beat._

_He didn't bother arguing and fumbled with the short chain, hard too do behind his tears. _

_**Anxiety arrives with the dawn to find me still crying  
>When you whispered "it's all right" did I hear tears in your voice, too?<strong>_

_The curtains were open wide as they clung to eachother, tears still falling steadilly. The stark hues of the dawn were starting to stain the sky with it's startling pallet, erasing the darkness and drawing in the light._

"_I want to go back." He sobbed, buying his head in the girls hair as she clutched him around the middle, face buried in his chest, neither in the arms they wanted to be in. _

_She inhaled slowly, breath hitching. "We can't change anything now. He's dead. Hans killed him." The end of her sentance broke off into silent sobs, the girl clinging tighter to him still._

'_Hans may have killed him, but he was killed by his father, inside.' Skipper clung to that idea, not wanting to let the idea fade._

"_It's all right... we'll be ok..."_

_The words didn't work how she wanted them too, the tears in her own voice made it too raw too be soothing and too untrue to be hopeful._

_**I want to embrace you, I want you to tell me  
>That you don't think this is a mistake<br>I want you to kiss me, I want you to remake me  
>I want to drown in this moment of captivation<strong>_

"_Skippers log. For a long time I have been hating myself for loving him, when really the answer was so clear all along._

_Hate him, Stop all the pain."_

_**I am drawn to you like a magnet  
>Even if I left, we would find each other again<br>I've touched you, I can never go back and that's just fine.  
>You are everything in the world to me<strong>_

"So you came back again." Skipper snarled violently, hands clenching and unclenching into fists, waiting for the Black haired man to lunge.

Hans smirked, stepping from the shadows a coy smile rippling up his face. "Of course Skipper, I told you I would didn't I?" He purred.

Fury came like a slap in the face, the sudden snap tensing his muscles and sending red awash over his vision. When he spoke his voice was as cold as dry-ice. "I'm going to kill you, and enjoy every second of your screaming."

Hans shook his head and shed his coat insouciantly, the careless air hitting him harder than any fists could have as he draped it over the back of the chair. He looked back up and tipped his head to the side, suppressing the smirk until only the corners of his mouth flicked upwards. "You wouldn't do that skipper. You wouldn't hurt me."

"Oh give me a minute!" He spat.

Hans looked him in the eyes, taking a step forward and throwing his arms wide. Hidden in the chestnut depths was a flicker of hopelessness, but the mask coating it was one of calm assurance. "Come on then" He said, gaze boring into the perfect mid-blue of his eyes. "Take a shot. Go for the throat, or the stomach, makes no difference to me min kaere."

Skipper faltered, lip curling. "Don't call me that." He snarled.

Hans just blinked, gesturing at his open stance. The commando swallowed fists curling ever tighter until his nails were digging like dull blades into his palms. His jaw was tense, teeth at the point of shattering behind his deep frown. The shadows that had once been soft and comforting were suddenly leering closer like monsters, twisted eyes looking in as he reached for the knife on his bedside table.

It sat wrong in his hand. All those years of perfect balance and coordination, never failing slashes and jabs the blade was like a stone in his palm. He curled his hand around it, fingers sliding over the worn handle unable to find the right grooves for them to sit in. He looked up, Hans was still there, face as smooth and expressionless as a marble statue, willingly passing his face to him and the adverse knife.

"If I don't kill you, you'll just come back again. Hurt me more." Skipper murmured, more to himself than the Dane.

The male lowered his arms hesitantly as his foe stared at the blade in his grip with the eyes that belonged on a lost child, glazed and lashed with hurt. He stepped closer, gingerly prying the offending tool from his grasp and tossing it away towards the shadows. Skipper looked up and Hans caught his face between his scarred palms.

"I don't come back because I want to." He murmured. "I come back because I'm drawn to you, like a pyromaniac to a flame. I can't stay away from you skipper." He leant closer, nose brushing his rivals and eyes searching for any spark of life. "All those years ago you intrigued me and you still do."

His eyes slid shut over his eyes, Shutting off any part of him that was screaming for the madness to stop, hearing only the wailing need to be closer to the reason for all his pain.

"I can't go back if you do this." Skipper whispered. "I can't go back to hating you."

"Good." Hans replied, suddenly crushing his lips against Skippers, hands snaking around his waist and dragging him closer. Hands knotted into his hair, forcing him closer.

They broke apart, needy and breathless, hesitating only long enough for Hans to murmur

"Du betyder alt for mig min kære." Before he was enveloped in another desperate and passionate kiss.

"You mean the world to me also, my dear." skipper whispered, his voice rippling into the shattering silence, laced with conviction.

'_Let the world judge. I don't care anymore...'_

**And that took me almost 2 weeks.**

**I am not proud of it at all. But I can only hope that CrazeTheWaffleCat enjoyed it.**

**Up next… PRIPPER! So yeah… there is that to look forward to ^-^**

**Kay. Untill then,**

"**SHUT UP CLEMSON! NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU!"**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Sup. :D**_

_**This goes out too… Crazy-Paring-Girl!  
>I loved this request so much. I heard the song and was like… OMG!<strong>_

_**Beware the swearing. It Kinda just happened.  
>So without further ado I bring you… the fic!<strong>_

_Song: According to you by Orianthi__**  
><strong>__Pairing: Pripper. (Private and Skipper)_

Skipper stood there, almost numb from shock as the brunette lent against the door-frame of her apartment, arms crossed and lips curved into an amused smirk.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, leaning forward slightly, confusion and panic written on his face.

She rolled her eyes and ran a hand up his chest, smoothing over the creases and tilting her head to the side.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe?" She pouted, not meeting his gaze pointedly. "I really miss you Skipper. Is it so wrong I want us to get back together?" She looked up at his, catching his blue eyes with her hazel ones, lips curving up again into a knowing smirk. "You want it to don't you? You miss me." She insisted, pressing her other hand against his chest as well and going up on her tip-toes to lean in close and look him in the eyes. "All you have to do is say yes." She murmured, eyes dropping from his eyes to his lips and back again.

He stepped back quite suddenly, folding his arms and looking away as the girl regained her balance and almost scowled.

"What?" She sighed. "What is it Skipper."

He hesitated, quickly shaking his head. There was no way he was telling her _that_. "Classified." He replied sharply, the word rolling off his tongue before he had time to contemplate it.

"Ok, there it is again! The reason we broke up! Why are you keeping things from me?" She demanded. Skipper opened his mouth but was cut off but a hand being waved. "Whatever. Listen; if you want to give us another chance Skipper, you know where to find me. I want your answer before 10, no later." She added, folding her arms and flouncing back into her apartment, letting the door swing shut with a solid click on the still startled commando.

Skipper stood there dumbly for a moment, staring at the polished wood and brass number on the door. He stepped away on stiff legs and waited a moment, as if waiting for the door to suddenly spill the answers to his problems.

"And I thought I was fucked before." He mumbled.

_**According to you I'm stupid, I'm useless  
>I can't do anything right<br>According to you I'm difficult, hard to please  
>Forever changing my mind<strong>_

He could still recall his and Marlene's messy break up like it happened at 9am this morning, not 4 months ago. Really they had been down-hill rolling ever since they started dating two months prior, she asked questions he couldn't answer time and time again and grew more frustrated as time wore on.

'_I'm only asking a question!" She screamed, face red and brown hair flung back._

_Skipper snorted and got to his feet. "I told you before. This information could get you killed!"_

"_Stop being so damn stupid!" She hissed. "Why would anybody kill me for this! WHO WOULD! I don't know! You won't bloody tell me!"_

"_Don't you get it!" Skipper snapped, hands balling into fists and rage boiling in his system. "You think Rico just woke up with a throat and stomach deformity! God damn it! He was fucking cut open and sewn back together just for knowing me! People get hurt and people die Marlene, I've told you this before! " _

_Marlene didn't back down, eyes blazing and hands curved like she was about to drag her perfect nails across his face. "So you tell me now! Not when I asked TWO FREAKING DAYS AGO!"_

"_What do you want from me?" He retaliated, moving close so he was barely an inch from her, voice a low menacing whisper._

"_Answers." She spat._

"_I've told you! If I tell you this you are at risk of torture and other painful information ext-"_

"_Bullshit!" She cried furiously. "This is about more than that Skipper and you know it!"_

"_It's not." He growled._

_She narrowed her eyes, throwing her hands up in exasperation and walking away a few steps. "You are so useless!" She yelled, turning on her heel to face him. "You always change your mind at the last moment, without warning! I try do something right and you get all cut, I can't please you, not to mention that that is so rich coming from you who couldn't do anything right to save himself!" _

_The front door opened and Kowalski walked in, hesitating as he noticed the blood red faces and murderous expressions. "I'm sorry." He instantly responded, putting the groceries down and backing out, hands up. "I didn't know this was a bad Time, I'll just-"_

"_No Kowalski." Skipper said, waving a hand in his general direction, voice flat and cold. "Now is fine. Marlene was just leaving."_

"_If I leave, I am not coming back." She spat in his face, eyes dark and lips turned into a deep set scowl._

_The commando turned away. "Good. Then don't."_

_**I'm a mess in a dress, can't show up on time  
>Even if it would save my life<br>According to you, according to you**_

He strode from the main doors of the building, hands deep in his jeans pockets as he sucked in a lung-full of air, aiming to clean the red from his vision. He turned and started walking, feet keeping a steady rhythm with the pavement against the mess and chaotic noise of the city in rush hour. It was vague and directionless, but the walk was doing him some good. Slowly the overbearing mountain of problems was losing ground against the calm rational thinking that was occurring.

Of course there was still _that _he had to deal with, then Marlene as well, but all the little things were slowly crumbling as he broke them down.

"Mountains out of mole-hills." He chuckled, recalling Privates favourite piece of advice.

He grimaced and increased his speed. Nope. Not ready to go there yet obviously. Being pulled from his thoughts he noticed that his feet had subconsciously led him to central park, the greenery opening up in front of him as he ploughed on.

It was crazy. The whole situation was crazy he decided, there was no other possible word for it. There were basically three options, and he had the pick of the lot. To go back to Marlene and probably wind up in the same existence as before, boring and flat surfaced with the occasional bickering or tension. To throw both of them off and go back to how it was before anything ever happened and it was just four bachelors and their life endangering job.

Then there was option three.

Skipper sighed and slipped onto a bench, placing his elbow on his knee and bracing his head against it, watching the stark concrete skyline outline in pristine lines against the chaotic mess of orange and reds, swirling as sweeping over the blue sky like paint on a canvas. The colour ran in the form of sunlight, dusting over the city evenly, cloaking everything with possibility and darkening every shadow that lay behind it.

Option three he mused, without noticing slipping a hand under his shirt and running his fingertips over the stitches, tracing the jagged 'S' from the top left of his chest to the right side of his lower back on the other side. He winced but did it again, reminding himself that he didn't dream anything. It all actually happened._****_

_**But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible  
>He can't get me out of his head<br>According to him I'm funny, irresistible  
>Everything he ever wanted<strong>_

_The blade flashed in front of his eyes and he ducked to avoid it, completely missing the presence of the second knife. It struck his chest, slamming though the skin, the pain ripping outwards brutally. He howled and jerked away the girls tight hold of it sending it consequentially tearing though his skin. She smiled and jerked it for good measure, raising the other above her head just as an elbow caught her in the face. She fell back, teetering with the tiniest amount of balance when skipper threw a kick, teeth grit against the agony bleeding from his skin, smacking against her head knocking her harder. A rapid succession of fight moves later she was slumped against the wall with blood marking her grisly demise on the grey plaster board for all too see._

_Blood?_

_He looked down and almost had a panic attack. The wound was deep and severe, blood spilling from the raw crevasse almost splitting his torso in half. He went to stanch the bleeding, blood flooding out over his hands and coating them in the thick red liquid. He pulled them back to inspect the cut again, some of the liquid dripping rapidly off his palms to the floor. _

_Then he joined it, the room spinning and everything blurred. _

"_Oh god." He slurred, watching the patches of blood that were his hands spin and distort in and out of clarity. One thought was clear. He was going to die here, on this floor unless something happened soon. And he hoped like hell that it was._

"_Skippah? Skip – OH MY GOD, SKIPPAH!" _

_The commander almost smiled as the rapid foot-falls approached, slamming against the lino. Moments later a hand was compressing the part of the wound he couldn't reach, the other up and under his chin, measuring his pulse. _

"_Imma 'live pri." He mumbled, now noticing that the heavy breathing wasn't just his own. _

_Private was shaking head bowed and face falling faster every second. "You… You can't die! Not here! Not now! We all need you, I need you!" He cried, voice growing shrill. "You, have to live! I can't go on without you! Oh god…" The sentence broke off into sobs and the younger male buried his head against Skippers neck, soft Dark curls tickling him. He could have laughed if he had the energy or will-power._

"_How do I save you! Tell me!" He wept, pressing tighter over the wound, now using both hands._

_Skipper looked at the wall. "Int'com. Ge' Walski an' Rico." He grunted, throwing his head back as the pain mounted. _

_The smaller agent scrambled to his feet and dashed to the small speaker box, slamming his finger over the button and attempting to calm him hitched breathing. "K'walski, Rico! Skippah! He's Bleeding… he can't talk properly… He's, he's, he's…" choked off, finger falling from the button and body falling to the floor, wracking with deep shuddering sobs as he heaved himself over to the leader and pressed against the wound again._

"_Good w'rk Pri." Skipper rasped, smiling weakly at the British boy._

_He bowed his head again, eyes closed tightly, tears leaking from the scrunched up corners. "You're amazing, talented, calm, level-headed, strong, incredible, beautiful." He whispered roughly, applying pressure every time he spoke. "You are everything I wish I could be, and I know I shouldn't feel like this, I shouldn't have you on my mind all the time but I do!" He moaned, "I love you Skippah, please don't leave me here alone… _

_**Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it  
>So baby tell me what I got to lose<br>He's into me for everything I'm not  
>According to you<strong>_

He jerked as he pulled a stitch just a little too hard, a small sting on his abdomen the proof he had done so. He had lived, not seeing the world close over from the cold coffin on the lino floor. His team had saved his life again. But Privates words were all he was thinking about, brain swarming and clouding like an infestation of bees were living up there.

So naturally he had asked the youngest male. He had grown crimson sharply, dark eyes cast down at his shoes as he squirmed under his superiors gaze. It was what happened next that surprised Skipper.

He had been assuming that he would deny everything and they would go back to conducting themselves as normal. What he had actually done was repeat everything he had said before, telling the commander everything he thought about him.

And then that he loved him.

He had seen the sad smile on Privates face when he had taken the larger scarred hand in his own and casually announced that it was ok if Skipper didn't feel the same way, he would understand.

And then left the room almost the same as he had come in. but there was lightness in his step he hadn't seen for a while, as if a weight had been lifted.

But _why _did have to be that baggage.

_**According to you I'm boring, I'm moody  
>And you can't take me any place<br>According to you I suck at telling jokes  
>'Cause I always give it away<strong>_

Skipper stood, now aggravated and frustrated as he started to walk again, kicking the small acorn that had fallen on the path.

What he was frustrated with he didn't know, it seemed to just be a general feeling directed towards everybody. Angry at Private for saying everything he wanted to hear, angry at Marlene for not, angry at himself for letting it get this far. He growled and wound up a kick, booting the acorn away watching it soar towards the pond and disappear beneath the surface with a splash. The circles radiated away from where the acorn had vanished, swallowed by the pond water. He stopped watching the rippling surface of the water, light playing off the surface like liquid diamonds.

He turned his back on the dark water, striding off down the path. He could almost hear Marlene's voice in the back of his head. _'Moody aren't you? See this Is why we never go anywhere!' _He picked up the pace almost wanting to outrun his problems.

Chances were more likely Julian would use common sense for once, A medical impossibility._****_

_**I'm the girl with the worst attention span  
>You're the boy who puts up with that<br>According to you, according to you**_

He scowled. It shouldn't have been like this.

Marlene was the girl, she was supposed to be up-lifting him, making him feel good inside. Private should have been his friend, not doing what his Ex had failed to do. He should instantly dismiss Private from the options.

But he couldn't.

He threw a backwards look into the park, eyes catching on a couple walking hand in hand, the girl leaning into the taller male, eyes locked on his face as he spoke, his eyes screaming his adoration of the female beside him. No one stared at them strangely or labelled them freaks or weirdoes because of their love.

A Female and a Male was acceptable in everyone's eyes. A Male and another Male didn't hold the same level of acceptance, probably less inside his employer's minds. Marlene should be the one he was falling in love with.

He should have been falling for Marlene. But he wasn't.

The falling had been done and all it had done was lock him at the bottom of a very deep well with sheer sides and no light at the top. But the floors had fallen away now, leaving him falling all over again.

He bit his bottom lip and considered what he had just thought. Was it true, was he falling for the younger agent? It would make him a homosexual and in some others eyes a Paedophiliac. But chances were Private had already considered this.

He hadn't seemed to care, he never seemed to care what people thought.

_**But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible  
>He can't get me out of his head<br>According to him I'm funny, irresistible  
>Everything he ever wanted<br>Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it  
>So baby tell me what I got to lose<br>He's into me for everything I'm not  
>According to you<strong>_

He was going to do a Rico he now realized as he sprinted down the now shadowed pathway, trainers flying and stitches pulling, but he really couldn't care less at that moment.

The apartment block loomed ahead of him in its tall menacing stature, the sharp shadows giving it that little more edge. Skipper only smiled slightly, bursting through the doors and dashing towards the stairwell, leaping up the stairs two at a time. His lungs were starting to burn, the stitches doing him no favours as he scaled the last staircase, darting down the corridor and grinding to a halt at the door, hammering loudly.

The door swung aside, The girl raising an eye-brow and smirking. "Hello skipper. Do you need something?" She asked innocently, batting her eye-lashes.

The commando hesitated for only a second. "Yes actually. Your attention, because I'm only going to say this once!"_****_

_**I need to feel appreciated  
>Like I'm not hated, oh no<br>Why can't you see me through his eyes?  
>It's too bad, you're making me dizzy<strong>_

"Go on." She said, waving a hand in a 'go ahead' gesture.

He inhaled deeply. "I don't love you, And I have a gut instinct that you don't love me either. I don't want constant criticism from a relationship, I want to feel appreciated and wanted. And as crazy as this is going to sound to you I get that from Private, and I want him to feel the same way. I won't tell you that if you had been different things would have been different, because I don't know that! So I came to tell you that, no. I don't want to try being you and me again."

He paused, looking at her shocked and confused face and then down at his watch.

"Oh, and its only nine thirty, seems I can keep time." _****_

_**But according to me you're stupid, you're useless  
>You can't do anything right<strong>_

She raised an eye-brown and snorted. "You are kidding me right?" She started to laugh. "You suddenly turned gay and just expect Private has too? Are you smoking something?"

Skipper only continued to smile leaning forward and whispering in her ear. "Nope, Oh and by the way? I just thought you should know that you're a self-absorbed Bitch who cares about no one but herself. "

He righted himself to meet her furious hazel gaze.

"Bye babe!" He mocked, blowing an air-kiss over his shoulder as he waltzed away.

When the door slammed he only laughed._****_

_**But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible  
>He can't get me out of his head<br>According to him I'm funny, irresistible  
>Everything he ever wanted<br>Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it  
>Baby tell me what I got to lose<br>He's into me for everything I'm not  
>According to you, you<br>According to you, you**_

"Oh! Hullo Skippah!" Private chirped from the couch where he was reading a magazine, legs folded up underneath him and hair wet, probably from a shower, the soft springy curls now a wet swept back mat. "Rico and Kowalski went out to go get groceries. They should be back in about… 15 minutes?" He guessed, smiling up at him.

"Good." He gasped, plucking the magazine from his grip and tossing it to the floor. He snared the brits wrists and gently, but quickly pushed them backwards, pinning the younger male to the couch. Still acting on the rush Skipper straddled him, leaning down over him.

He was blushing a furious crimson, but there was a slight smile on his face anyway. "Skippah? What are you doing?" He squeaked.

"Exactly what I should have done in the first place." He murmured.

He leant closer, A spark of electricity jolting down his spine as his lips brushed Privates, the sensation making his shiver. Moments later he found his mouth pressed firmly against the smaller males, the boys head leaning up to close the gap between their lips and seal the kiss.

When they broke Private's face had gone even redder, a really pleased looking grin on his face. "Skippah? What was that for?" He asked, using his now free arms to trace circles on Skippers wrists and arms.

The commanding officer laughed a swept the boys hair out of his eyes. "Because I love you Pri, that's why."

His smile grew wider until it seemed almost too big for his face. "Really?" He asked.

"Mmm-hmm." Skipper hummed, very surprised to feel his collar being dragged down.

"You know we still have…" Private contemplated his watch. "About 13 minutes until the others get back."

Skipper chuckled and pressed his forehead against the younger boys. "Pushy aren't you?"

"I've been waiting a while." He giggled. "I think I earned the right to be pushy."

_**According to you I'm stupid, I'm useless  
>I can't do anything right<strong>_

"A flat?" Kowalski groaned, bashing his head against the steering wheel repeatedly. "You have got to be kidding me."

Rico rolled his eyes and jumped from the car, kneeling down to examine the tyre. Kowalski joined him a moment later, wrapping his arms around himself even though he was pretty much swimming in his oversized blue knitted jumper. "You need the jack?"

Rico nodded and continued to examine the flat wheel. When the scientist returned he slumped down against the rear wheel and watched the weapons expert jack the car up. "Do you reckon Skippers back yet?"

The explosives expert nodded.

Kowalski handed him the wrench. "What do you think their doing?" He waggled his eye-brows. "Making-out?" he guessed jokily.

The pair started to laugh at the absurdity of the idea, Rico tossing back the idea that they could be drafting cattle.

If only they knew how true their first guess was.

**DONE! :3  
>A little later than promised, but I hope you like it!<strong>

_**Doing a Rico: Doing something with no definite plan of action, the only idea being what you want to achieve.**_

**I recon Kowalski sounded kinda pervy at the end. Why is it I like the idea of a pervy Kowalski? X3**

**Oh… and a mega big thank you to everyone who reviewed! It means a lot to me!**

**BACON. BECAUSE IF IT DOSEN'T MOTIVATE YOU, NOTHING WILL.**

_**Up next….BURAVIO!  
>Yeah. Dat's right!<strong>_

_**So until next time, **_

_**BACON MOTIVATORS! :D**_


	6. Chapter 6

**I should be doing something productive right now.  
>but… I'm not.<strong>

**So, CrazeTheWaffleCat… enjoy.**

_**Pairing: Buravio. (Burt and Savio)**_

"You have no Idea how screwed I am right now." He sighed, stirring the coffee with his spoon absentmindedly.

The café was quieter than usual, the dull afternoon providing little light, but the rain pattering gingerly against the tin roof was soothing. The lights had been shut off, giving a dreary effect to the small barista. Tables were abandoned and chairs left stranded as if the entire population had just gotten up and left.

The male across from him, raised an eye-brow down at his nails and ran his thumbs over them, tutting under his breath. "My cuticles are a mess." He muttered, looking up and catching the incredulous look of his heavier companion. "I know, I'm sorry, I'm a hopeless gay." He sighed theatrically, flicking his hands out before knotting them together and resting his chin on them. "Again?"

Burt exhaled and looked past the male in his late twenties out the window behind him. A small professional woman darted out from under shelter and using a folder as a covering attempted to flag down a taxi on the busy road. "You have now idea how screwed I am right now." He repeated, word perfect. If there was one thing he could do it was remember things.

The other male flipped a hand out and reclined in his chair. "I hardly see why." He said, nonchalantly sipping his tea from the large white mug. Swallowing he lent forward again and lent the cup on the table again, elbows finding purchase on the worn, slightly sticky, surface. "You my friend are a lucky one!" He added in a envious tone, resting the cup against his bare fore-arm for a second, Burt shifting uncomfortably away from the warm burning sensation.

"Yeah, in what universe?" he rebuffed, folding his arms as the other man shifted again, arms flailing against the background of rain on glass.

His tone was almost exasperated. "In every universe, You've gone ahead and found your perfect match!" a hand went up to fiddle with the end of one of his deadlocks. "Do you know how long I've been searching?" He hesitated, leaning his temple against the mug slightly. "Actually even I don't. But I do know that is was a while!" he added.

Burt shrugged and ran his hands over the underside of the table nervously. "We'll yes I suppose, but the problem isn't that." He stated, in the overly nasal voice that he was sure made him sound absolutely thick when he spoke.

The singer narrowed his eyes and righted himself sharply. "What is it then?" he demanded, eyes sharpening.

The older man shot him a meaningful glance. "It's them."

The younger rolled his head back and groaned loudly, arms splayed by his sides. "You are kidding me!" He yelled, pushing his head forward and watching Burt carefully. "Seriously? Them?"

The heftier nodded slightly, consequentially setting the green haired male off again. He snatched his coffee out of the way as the actor slammed his face into the table, hands out again. That was one thing you had to be wary about with the thuggish looking man, he rarely refrained from moving.

"I swear, every time they try doing good, someone else ends up hurt." He declared, prodding a finger into the table. Then he hesitated. "I however do have to admit that Skipper is looking _fine_." His eyes grew distinctly predatory. "Have you seen those abs of his?"

"Roger!" Burt cried, eye-brows as high as they could go. The thuggish looking man giggled slightly, swallowing down few gulps of tea and waving a hand breezily.

"It's true! It's as if they were carved from stone." He sighed. "Too bad he's as straight as a two by four." An almost childish pout appeared. "Why are all the hot-ones never gay?"

"I wouldn't say that." Burt chided, "You're gay aren't you?"

Roger grinned wildly, revealing his crocodile like smile, seemingly too many teeth crammed into his mouth as he turned and pushed a handful of the green dreadlocks in front of his face. "Oh cut it out Burt, you're making me blush!" He gushed, before shaking it off and turning back. "But back to your mystery lover… what do you mean when you mention them?"

"They… uh…" He clenched his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting the brownish green gaze as he muttered. "They want to punch his face in."

A loud grating noise made him grimace as roger shot backwards in his chair, eyes wide and body locking in position, hands cupped over his mouth, perfect nails digging into his cheeks. "You are bloody kidding me." He breathed.

"Sadly no." Burt grimaced. He clenched his hands into fists on the table top and ground his teeth together. It was crazy, he knew it was. He came from such a bad place and everyone knew what he was but, still there was some spark there that drove the builder crazy.

A soft hand covered his own. "Listen. I'm not saying that you should go dump whoever this guy is, but you may want to rethink the relationship." Roger paused, gaze serious. "I come from a rough background and a bad side of town, but skipper and his crew don't go there." He lent forward again, widening his eyes slightly and squeezing the fists slightly. "They deal with _worse._"

Burt knew that what the younger male said was true. And _he _was worse, he knew that. He was a dangerous criminal with a few quirks that were often described as disturbing, probably because they were, but he couldn't help it! Well actually he probably could.

Burt suddenly longed to slam his face against the wooden table, It would hurt less than the thoughts he had to process. So far he had developed very few concrete facts about his lover, the rest was mush that seemed to flow from one thing to another, hard to track and difficult to watch at the best of times. It was utterly infuriating.

"You know what I wish?" Roger announced suddenly, jerking the builder from his reverie.

"What?"

The green-haired male tapped a single finger against his chin. "I wish I lived in the 'call me maybe' music video. I wouldn't call him 'maybe,' I would call him definitely!" He sighed, slumping down on the table, humming the tune under his breath.

"You know what I've noticed? The moment you meet those four, your life is altered." Burt groaned. "Perhaps not straight away, but somewhere down the track it happens."

Roger nodded. "I fully agree." He declared, lifting his mug and clanking it against the builders. He took a sip and grimaced. "Stuff this."

He got up from the table and darted out of view, returning a moment later with a bottle of alcohol and two glasses. On his way back to the table he span around and swung his arms out, righting himself instantly afterwards, muttering the word pitiful under his breath.

"Right! I am a firm believer in the fact you need to indulge yourself from time to time and right about now I feel like I need indulging." He said, unscrewing the bottle and pouring a rough amount into the two glasses and pushing one across two his company, taking the other and knocking it back quickly.

The builder raised an eye-brow. "Woah, woah… calm down. No need to get wasted."

"I'm not planning on it." Roger chastised lightly. "This is a…" He grappled for a word. "Celebration of sorts I suppose. We are celebrating that whoever the hell your significant other is they are on the penguins hit-list, and that I am officially going to try find somebody who is not as straight as a thick-assed iron rod." He grinned, again showing off the distinctly sharky smile.

Burt sipped the brown liquid. It burned his throat and reeked of strong alcohol, he had never been a big drinker any way. "Those don't seem like things to be celebrating."

"Eh." Roger shrugged. "My Sister always told me to make everything a party. She also told me to shut up and smoke some freakin' weed, but I don't follow that advice." He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Fair." Burt noted.

The bell above the door chimed loudly, breaking the easy silence that had started to evolve. Roger stood smoothly and stepped towards the customer, who was still behind the other male.

"Hello sir." Roger beamed. "Can I get you anything?"

Burt froze as the other countered. "Perhaps… Depends on what you are offering."

He turned in his chair and glared with frustration. "Savio." He warned.

The tall, lanky Spaniard twitched his head and smiled, waving a hand loftily. "You always get so tense when I ask people questions like that. It's perfectly innocent I assure you." He crooned, using a deeply bronzed hand to yank his longish brown hair from his face, revealing the snake skin tattooed from the corner of his right eye down the side of his face and throat.

"How to I know that." Burt challenged.

Savio let the corner of his lip flick into a smirk. "Because you let me go."

Roger had two fingers pressed on his temples, face a look of utter concentration. "Savio… I've heard that name somewhere before."

The male let his eyes narrow slightly, gaze still on the builder who was glaring harder with every passing second. "Do the words Contortionist or Cannibal help at al-"

"Thank you for the tea roger. Now if you don't mind me I have to death with this joker." Burt smiled, keeping on hand firmly over the now twisting and enraged males mouth, almost like a muzzle.

The green haired man chuckled and motioned at the writhing and furious Spaniard. "This the guy?"

"Yeah."

He nodded slowly. "You have good taste."

It came as a shock to the twenty three year old when burn snatched his hand away, gripping it tightly and scowling, crimson starting to furrow between the grooves in his fingers. Savio grinned sadistically and ran his tongue over his bloodied teeth.

"I agree."

**Savio… you don't bite people and then comment on how they taste! It's just plain rude!**

**But onto other news, yes. I did Make Roger stalk Skipper. Odd? Yes, most probably. XD**

**Hope you liked it everyone! THANK YOU ALL FOR THE POSITIVE REVIEWS AND REQUESTS! So leave me more. **

**Oh… and who want to read a supernatural Kico/pripper story that involves death and blood even though I have absolutely no excuse for having such an idea?**

**So yeah.**

**Bye! ^-^**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok. So I wanted to save this idea until Halloween… But I love this story too much to leave it! Sorry, but blood, gore and people losing their minds interests me! Also, I recommend listening to this song, because SERIOUSLY it is AMAZING and it will give you the theme of the song so quick, I promice you!**

**But I digress. Here it is!**

_**Beware, this following fic will contain demons and gore.**_

_Song: Dance with the dead by get scared.  
>Pairings: Kico and Pripper. (Kowalski and rico. Skipper and Private)<em>

Private stopped for a moment, wet eyes flicking to the shadows looming up from the darkened city. Flashes of darkness ripped past and he bit his bottom lip to avoid screaming out. He shuffled the bags about in his hands and started walking again, head down and body numb.

'_they're still out there' _he reminded himself, hacking back a choked sob as the chill night air sped past, tugging at his hair and clothes. Blood blossomed behind his eye-lids, dark sightless eyes and crimson stained bed-sheets also swarming his vision. The twisted images writhed in his mind, flashing from one sick picture to another, and there was nothing he could do to stop them from shifting and continuing in their endless, meaningless pattern of death and gore.

The door was swept aside as he crashed into the glass, iron keeping the sheets of it there as he fell into the lobby of the building. Private held one hand over his mouth tightly, nails almost piercing the skin of his cheeks and he rocked back and forth. Bottles of milk and packets of soup had toppled from the plastic and lay on the carpet as the boy wept. Tears streamed down his face from his tightly closed eyes, muffled screams escaping from between his tightly clamped lips. The loss and abandonment was suffocating, the feeling of drowning sucking the small boy down into the darkness of the memories he would kill to forget.

'_Kill…' _The tears fell rapidly, and he could feel the copper and salt taste of blood flood his mouth as his teeth pierced the flesh his bottom lip.

There was no way to track time as he knelt curled up on the ground, panic and fear dousing his quaking frame in choking amounts. Slowly the raspy, gasped breaths slowed, his eyes running dry and shaking stilling down to tremors. Carefully he hauled himself forward and hurriedly repacked the bag with groceries, knowing that at any moment the mind distorting panic and desperation could resurface.

He stumbled to the elevator and hit the button, slumping against the corner and closing his eyes . He wanted to cry and scream, anything to numb the pain that was shooting like bolts of electricity down his spine.

But it wasn't fair. He had to stay strong, mentally stable just like Kowalski had. Then Rico. It would be too much of him to ask of Marlene if he lost his mind now. She was already doing so much for him. The bell dinged and the doors slid open with the metalic swish. Private opened his eyes and consulted his reflection in the mirrored paneling on the inside of the lift. His hair was a mess, knotted and sticking out at all angles from when he had attempted to rip it out. His scalp still burned. The normal whites of his eyes had been dyed to a deep magenta, dark irises tired and at the same time jumpy and hyper alert. The same eyes skipper had when he lost too much sleep.

He whimpered and screwed his eyes shut, hands dropping the bags again and reaching up to clamp over his ears. His spine arched as he started to sing loudly and off-key.

"Lord the light of your love is shining! In the midst of the darkness shining! Jesus Light of the world shine upon us, set us free by the truth you now bring us…" He broke off into sobs, and the bloody images started to flash through again.

The memories were too raw, too sensitive. Every time he thought of something even mildly related the world would spin and agony would rip at him with its merciless talons. Reminiscing was like dripping acid on an open wound.

Open like the holes in their chests where their hearts should have been, blood splattering the surfaces like a disturbing greeting card. The same word carved into the wall every time.

_DANCE._

_**Where the band never sleeps  
>The dead waltz through the streets<br>And I'm slowly falling**_

_"Oh my god…" Skippers voice was taught and strained, pulled tightly with confusion. _

_Private looked up from his cereal and across the room at his commanding officer. The ebony haired male had his eyes wide and jaw parted slightly as he stared at the screen. He rose from his chair and went to stand beside him, tuning into the T.V as the somber looking presenter continued to talk. _

"_- Twenty eight year old was discovered in her home early this morning by her parents Joe and Sarah Evens when they stopped by to drive her too her the airport for her flight bound to south America." She read, the screen now flipping to a clip of two people standing outside a house, faces tear stained and eyes puffy. _

"_She never had done anything to hurt anyone and now she's dead!" the woman wailed, clutching to her husband desperately as armed officers swarmed the house behind them like flies on a rotting carcass._

_Private recoiled in horror as a picture flared onto the screen. It was a slim, tall girl with glossy red hair and sharp hazel eyes as she smiled prettily at the camera, still managing it despite the three scars across one of her eyes. He knew how she got those scars, an angry mother falcon attempting to protect her chicks from an inquisitive young girl._

"_Kitka!" He yelped. _

_Skipper only nodded slowly, still staring at the TV as the presenter continued to describe the nature of the incident. It was then the door was swept open, Kowalski and Rico dashing in, breathless and red faced. _

"_Kitka's been murdered." The scientist gasped out, leaning heavily on the door frame. "We were doing recon and went past her house, there were police everywhe-"_

"_I know." Skipper snapped. "It's all over the news."_

_Kowalski stopped his rushed explanation and scowled. "We ran back here for nothing?" He exclaimed._

"_No' cool man." Rico huffed._

Private stumbled down the hall blindly, fumbling with the doors as he attempted to find the right one.

"_Where is Skipper?" Kowalski asked, tilting his head to the side as he scrutinized the clock. "According to my calculations he should have been awake around 19 minutes ago."_

_Private shrugged. "Perhaps he's having a lie in today k'walski?" He offered. _

_Rico let out a raspy laugh and rolled his eyes expressively. _

"_Hey!" He defended. "It's a perfectly innocent answer." _

"_Right." Kowalski said, dragging the word out as he placed his plate of toast back on the counter and walked down the hall towards Skippers room._

_Private was sure that that was what it was, all the stress of 5 months interrogation for Kitkas murder must have finally gotten to him. Sleeping in would be good for him._

_It was crazy how quickly the illusion shattered like a bullet through a pane of glass._

"_Skipper skipper? Are you OH MY GOD SKIPPER!" Kowalski shrieked. _

_Private and Rico turned their heads instantly and looked down the corridor, Kowalski was backed up against the other side of the hall, face sheet white and breathing loud and frenzied. "RICO CALL 911! AND DON'T LET PRIVATE COME DOWN HERE!" He screamed, falling back against the wall, one hand now covering his mouth as his back shook violently._

_Rico stood, sharply, knocking his chair back and running towards him, gripping the scientists arms and looking at him sharply. Kowalski screeched out something barely audible and fell into Rico's arms as he turned his head to glance at what had Kowalski so terrified. He staggered backwards, face twisting into a look of horror. _

"_911!" Kowalski screamed, tearing himself from the others embrace and sprinting down towards the phone._

"_K'walski?" Private asked as he snatched for the white device with a shaking hand. He didn't seem to hear him. "K'WALSKI!" He yelled. _

_He was scared. Rico had tears streaming down his face and his hand knotted in his hair. Kowalski was sobbing into the phone line, and outside the door angry shouts and slamming doors were joining in the chaotic orchestra. Private couldn't stand it, his mind like a scratched CD, stopping, starting and skipping over things as the noise level rose and rose. Suddenly a high pitched wail joined it, an unearthly scream. He hated the sound. It was too raw, too fragile. He was making that sound._

_He ran towards the hall._

"_PRIVATE!" Kowalski shrieked. _

_The younger tried to avoid him but Rico snagged him around the waist anyway, and lifted him into the air kicking and howling violently. His back was pressed against the weapons expert's chest, a wet stain growing over his shoulder. Someone was hammering on the door. Kowalski was relaying their address to whoever was on the other end of the phone line. Rico kept saying how sorry he was, whimpering desperately into Privates ear. Private kept screaming, and he couldn't stop. The door was kicked open and Roy marched in yelling. Kowalski turned to him and hit him hard across the face before falling to the ground weeping. _

_The emergency services came later. The three of them were sitting in an arm chair, clinging to each other desperately. None of them wanting to believe what had just happened. _

_Skipper was dead. His chest was ripped open and his heart was missing, the single word had been carved into the plasterboard above his head. _

_DANCE._

He slammed against the door and fumbled with the key, ramming it helplessly against the lock through blurry eyes.

"_Eh." Rico murmured, putting a finger under his chin and tilting his head up. "It Ok." He rasped, swiping a stray tear from his own blood-shot eyes. "We be Ok." _

_Private only bit his bottom lip and nodded dully, head dropping back to the table. Rico stood slowly and walked down the hall quickly. Knocking on the door to the lab and pushing it open slowly. "Walksi? Oo awake?" _

_Private listened in, still only half awake, as Rico shuffled down the steps, still calling out to the scientist. _

_Another bullet thorugh the window. Another cross on the imaginary hit-list._

_Rico cried out, the long mournful and horrified note rising steadily. Private felt his blood run cold. He stumbled from the chair, feet like lead bricks. Rico was kneeling on the floor, blood slowly seeping into the fabric of his pyjamas. Kowalski's head was on his lap, eyes wide open, but glassy and unresponsive despite how hard Rico was shaking him._

_Private could see why he wasn't responding. _

_It was the same reason why Rico had held him away from seeing Skippers corpse. Kowalski's chest was split down the middle by a jagged open wound, ribs and lungs on full view. Some of the ribs had been shattered, about four of them. The white bones were now splinters embedded in the scientists flesh, leaving a gaping rift where his heart should have been, the veins that connected to it ripped and torn._

_Again he started to scream._

_No one could calm him. Not Rico, Not Marlene, Not the kind nurse._

_He kept screaming untill they gave him a shot. He kept screaming till he fell unconscious. _

They key finally fell into place and the door slipped open. He fell into Marlene's living room, turning and crawling so he could re-lock the door behind him. He fell against the wood door, nails scraping deep groves into it.

_He wrestled with the door. He was sobbing uncontrollably. Thank god he wasn't screaming yet. The door was locked just as the police had advised. They had to make it harder for whoever was killing them off to get in, because whoever was doing it was certainly smart. There were no traces anywhere to be seen and no one was ever woken. Whoever the killer was they must be proud of being compared to jack the ripper._

_Suddenly he didn't care. He swung a kick and sent his foot through the door. He shoved his arm through and attacked the lock with his now bloody fingers. The knob turned and the lock clicked. He rammed against the door with his hip and he fell through the thresh-hold, arm getting speared on the jagged and splintered wood. Rico was splayed out on his bed, arms hanging by his side and eyes glassy. _

_There was the gaping cut splitting his torso in half._

_And there was the message, written as clear as day on the wall, the bloodied tool that had been used to carve the word giving it the impression that the wall was bleeding._

_He thought it would get easier, the whole 'Your team-mate has been pulled apart by some sick murdering bastard' thing. But it didn't._

_And the almost blissful smile on Rico's face didn't help._

_**There's a voice in my head  
>Whispering softly it says<br>"Join me, dance, dance, dance with the dead!" **_

Private pressed his forehead against the wood door, using one of his hands to feel for his pulse. It was still there, erratic and crazy, but it was there. He was alive.

But for how much longer he didn't know.

It had been going through rank, one after the other they were falling. The same type of death with the same questions being asked. _'Where did the hearts go? Who was doing it? How were they getting in? How were they getting out?'_ He had even taken to sleeping with a gun, loaded and ready under his pillow. But for all its reassurance the cold weapon didn't stop the nightmares, and it didn't soothe his fears. Rico had been sleeping with a gun. He never managed to use it.

"I have to say I'm disappointed." The voice was mocking, presented in such a sing-song way.

Private span around instantly, pressing his back against the hardwood door, arms by his side. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" He screamed.

The silhouette was clear against the lights of the city streaming through the window. They were seated primly in a chair, frame rocking back and forth slightly. An arm moved up to tap their chin. "Well I thought that would be fairly obvious." They laughed.

Private swallowed and sharply reached a hand up, smacking it against the light-switch. The sudden change made him cringe away from it, but he kept his eyes on the figure in the chair, desperate to know who it was. Desperate to know who he was going to kill. His hand moved instinctively to the knife in his sock, only to freeze half-way there.

"No." He whimpered, eyes growing wild. "NO! ITS NOT- YOUR DEAD!" He screamed.

Skipper smiled mockingly. "Perhaps."

_**Where the band never sleeps  
>The dead waltz through the streets<br>And I'm slowly falling**_

"You can't- It's not possible!" His hands clamped painfully over his ears, fingernails digging into his skull. "Praise my soul the king of heaven, to his feet thy tribute bring! Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven! Who like me his praise should sing!" He sang, rocking back and forth, suddenly diverging from the original tune. "Your dead, you can't be here! I'm going insane!"

Private screamed sharply as the edges of skippers fingers brushed against the side of his face, jerking his head away from the cold touch. Before he knew what he was doing he was on his feet and running, panic seizing hold of his body. He shoved the door to the hallway aside and staggered backwards, body frozen in terror. Kowalski smiled his usual white smile and flipped his almost blue hair from his eyes. "Greetings Private."

A strong hand landed on his shoulder, the frozen touch sinking through his skin as they squeezed. "Ey Pivate!" they rasped cheerily.

_**There's a voice in my head  
>Whispering softly it says<br>"Join me, dance, dance, dance, dance with the dead!"**_

He lurched away from the icy grasp, turning and backing away as the three of them slowly waltzed towards him.

"I'm making this all up." He whispered. "It's all in my head , They're dead, they can't come back, no-one can come back from the dead it's not possible."

Their shadows loomed over him, as he screwed his eyes shut, pointless ramblings getting louder and louder to the point where he was screeching nonsence.

Skipper frowned, eye-brows dropping and his hand reaching out to trace the younger males jawline. He quivered and shied away from the touch, breath catching in his throat as he wailed. "Oh Pri…" He murmured. "I just want to dance…."

_**Whisper me a miracle  
>Or think of something logical<br>It's all too hard to deal**_

A strong grip snaked around his waist, yanking him away from the wall. And hand caught his own as he fell forward. His eyes snapped open, staring upwards with horror.

Skippers eyes were closed, and he was humming seemingly tunelessly under his breath. His black hair was tossed back like it usually was, not even a single strand daring to disobey it's command and flop across his forehead. Private jerked back even further away from him when his eyes snapped open, the perfect mid blue irises that usually pricked when hit with light now unnaturally dull.

He stumbled over his own feet as Skipper led him backwards. The boy panicked and started to struggle, preparing to rip his throat raw announcing his fear to those gathered. Not that any dead people would care. Kowalski and Rico passed by his line of vision, Locked softly in each other's arms, grinning and whispering quietly. His brows furrowed slightly, Were they dancing?

A cold rush of air hit the sensitive skin around his ear. "It's a miracle isn't it?" the leader breathed, gently throwing the younger away from him and dragging him back in one fluid motion before shuffling off again. Private whimpered in response, eyes still stick akin to a rabbit caught in the headlights moments before it's turned to road-kill.

For a few seconds he was suspended in air, until a pair of thin icy limbs caught him again. He yelped in surprise and struggled against the frozen grip on his hands. Kowalski scoffed loudly, eyes not even resting on the curly haired bot for a moment as his gaze travelled to his superior. "I Disregard such a term, there has to be some logical explanation for all of this.

"Satan." Private whimpered hoarsely.

The scientists dry eyes fluttered down to the boy as he led him in a small circle. "I'm sorry?" He enquired.

The youngest threw his head back and howled violently, the sound ripping abnormally from his throat. "SATAN!" He screeched, thrashing and writhing.

The scientist only chuckled, screams falling against deaf ears, spinning the smaller in ever quickening rounds before dropping the clawing hands and watching as he staggered away. "Oh that can't be it." He insisted.

_**And if I die before I wake  
>I pray the Lord my soul to take<br>And if there's none, oh well.**_

He shut his eyes against the new freezing touch that splayed against his skin and let the first words he could find spew from him. "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly -"

"Tr'ed Dat." Rico giggled.

He pressed on regardless, vaguely aware outside of his subconscious the bitter salt taste of tears. "Divine Power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who roam-"

The faint trickle of ice flickered away and returned harder than before, frost burning his skin like the cold slush Rico had stuffed down the collar of his polar fleece last winter during the snow fight.

That was it. Forget about the horrors his tormented mind had created and go somewhere safe where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He could see the snowflakes caught in Skippers hair as he tilted his head towards the sunlight like a plant, face flushed and breaths condensing in front of him. He could envision Rico darting between the ice cloaked trees, gripping Kowalski's Woollen hat like a flag and hollering as the scientist cursed and sprinted after him. The weight of compact now in his hands before he launched it, the cold that chewed persistently on his fingers and the Warmth of skippers gloved hands rubbing his rosy cheeks to heat them up a little. The real skipper, of course, not some messenger for Satan this demon wearing his face was.

How he sounded like his mother now. Her persistence in that the devil lay in wait, luring anybody to dare try sin so he could hold their souls for eternity. Back when he was five those thoughts were scary.

Now scary had a whole new definition, the soul word manifested in night terrors and the endless death that ghosted along behind him.

"Don't cry. I don't want to hurt you Private…" skipper whispered, frozen fingers tracing the drops from his eyes.

_**Where the band never sleeps  
>The dead waltz through the streets<br>And I'm slowly falling**_

"You just don't understand yet." He stated, dipping the boy backwards before pulling him back upwards and continuing to waltz even as he wept openly.

"The music!" Kowalski shouted. "Tell him about the music!"

Skippers head went back, a deep rumbling purr in his throat. "The music!" He crooned hungrilly. "You haven't heard the music, you can't hear it that's why you are so afraid." He turned the younger and pressed his back against his chest, arms keeping him pinned there as he continued to pray to a god that would never hear him. "It's amazing, never ending, changing pace and speed, drifting from loud to soft, never once leaving you. It's like an orchestra in your skull." He shuddered. "The music is life. Dancing is the extension of the music, a way to share it." His voice was like a thick syrup against the smaller's ear, smothering it in the sticky ooze, choking all other sounds.

"You're dead!" He wailed, shaking and stumbling as he was pushed around like a mop.

"Yes." He laughed. "I am Dead, But I never felt more alive!"_****_

_**There's a voice in my head  
>Whispering softly it says<br>"Join me, dance, dance, dance, dance with the dead!"**_

"Kitka, you must remember her, how she died, of course. She was reverted to the dance, but her partner was on a different melody to her own.

She found me, turned me, showed me her way. The music the dancing, everything that death had given to me like a gift. But she was still hearing differently, I wasn't her partner.

So she left and I danced. I never stopped and every time I fell close the music pulled me back, gave a reason to keep moving. But It was lonely, no partner to move with, no one to share this _blessing _with. " He continued, an almost mournful note creeping into his tone.

"So he turned me." Kowalski Sang out, whirling past and laughing crazily.

Rico appeared from seemingly thin air and dragged the tactician into a samba, bodies and legs bending with the same crazy grace, every movement as perfectly flawless in a way that even years of practice could never master. "Den me." He growled lowly, tuning with the taller, hands bare centimeters apart, The movement like that of a predatory creature.

"They hear it!" skipper whispered, almost breathless. "I hear it! The music, the message!"

"I-I-I don't understan- d-d!" The smaller sobbed, starting to fight the restraints again.

"Join me, Dance with the dead." He breathed.

_**You're screaming out a melody  
>You're ignorant but still you scream<br>You've given up on hell**_

He couldn't take it, the crazy throw-backs of blood and shattered organs battling his mother standing at the head of the table reciting prayer after prayer. It all seemed like one big acid trip gone wrong, like any second he would rouse and find himself with a bottle of pills in one hand and swaying crazily against an imaginary ghost. But it was all real, every mind distorting detail dragging him closer to the lip of insanity.

Oh how easy would it be to perish into the abyss of craziness? To never care again.

A pain had started to grow in his throat, the incessant mix of screaming, sobbing and howling out words he had strung together in a sentence rubbing against it like sandpaper.

"Ignorance is not always bliss Private." The leader intoned words like a whip crack against his mindless inner monologue.

"Go back to hell!" He screamed, pain joining the cocktail of emotions that was swirling about in his mind._****_

_**And if I die before I wake  
>I pray the Lord my soul to take<br>And if there's none, oh well**_

"You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday!"

What was it? Psalm 91? Is that what he should have been reciting?

What were they, a mere figment of his tormented psyche? The heralds of the devil?

Or just… real?

_**Where the band never sleeps  
>The dead waltz through the streets<br>And I'm slowly falling**_

"Why are you praying?" Skipper asked gently. "I've told you already that I am not going to hurt you. I just want to dance."

"What are you!" He sobbed.

The leader only laughed. "I'm me."_****_

_**There's a voice in my head  
>Whispering softly it says<br>"Join me, dance, dance, dance with the dead!"**_

Private found himself directed around again, the strange Waltzing dance halting though skipper continued to sway as if without choice. Kowalski was being led backwards, one pale hand barely resting on Rico's shoulder, the other on his uplifted hand's he allowed himself to be guided gently to the music Private couldn't hear. Rico had one arm around the scientists skinny waist, holding him close thought neither faulted or stumbled as they moved. Nose to nose and forehead to forehead they danced, Kowalski's lanky physique now a willowy grace and the weapons expert's more muscular body now strong and dramatic.

For some reason Private couldn't pick it worked. Like two puzzle pieces they slotted together filling in the picture and brining a sense of calm as they swept past.

"Do you see? They fit, they're partners." Skipper rushed out. "That's what we are all supposed to find! The one who fills in out empty spaces and makes us a whole, that person who you want to dance with forever…"

"What do you mean!" Private wept.

_**Where the- AHHHHHH**_

"I think you might be my partner."_**  
><strong>_

_**Where the band never sleeps  
>The dead waltz through the streets<br>And I'm slowly falling**_

His arms were seized. Not by a relaxed luring hold, but a furious and determined grip. He was flung back against the wall, back hitting it hard and head snapping back to connect as well. Dots swam and he moaned in pain. Right then he wanted nothing more than to clutch his aching skull and crawl into bed for a year, Impossible due to the hands pinning him back and the demons in Marlene's living room. _****_

_**There's a voice in my head  
>Whispering softly it says<br>"Join me, dance, dance, dance with the dead!"**_

Skipper glided closer, reaching out to drift the tips if his fingers down Privates face. "I wish it didn't have to hurt so much…" He whispered.

"My Advice is don't struggle. It only gets messy and painful, I'd know, I struggled. Just relax. Give yourself over." Kowalski murmured, pressing his arm tighter against the wall as Private started to struggle and writhe, screaming and wailing as the puzzle fell into place.

The deaths, the missing hearts, the single meaningless word DANCE…

Kowalski hissed and sent the panicking boy a stern glare, dusted behind his lightless eyes a guilty look no anger could ever hope to hide. "Rico gave himself over. He was fine."

Private's head snapped round, tear stained and blood-shot eyes boring into the weapons expert. "You let them do that to you?" He screamed. "Right when I needed you most! YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD! ALL OF YOU!"

Rico didn't answer him, didn't defend himself. Just looked at the scientist and smiled a pitiful half-smile.

"That would be my fault." Kowalski murmured.

"Heartless sicko," Private sobbed desperately, going lax against the grips that held him suspended against the wall

"More true then you may realize." Skipper said expressionlessly, dragging the collar of his shirt down to reveal the still gaping hole in his chest. The sight of the moist red flesh turned the boy's stomach acid and bringing back burning images.

_**Where the band never sleeps  
>The dead waltz through the streets<br>(Waltz thought the streets)  
>And I'm slowly falling<strong>_

Faster and faster they flashed past, like a deck of cards being shuffled at an ever increasing pace, staining the back of his eyes with blood red roses, their thorns scraping against the walls of his confined mind. He wanted to outdo the pain, to feel anything but the agony that was paralyzing his thoughts, so he screamed as loud as he could for as long as he could.

It felt better.

And then it got worse._****_

_**(Dance with the dead)  
>There's a voice in my head<br>whispering softly it says  
>(Wispering)<br>"Join me, dance, dance, dance with the dead!"**_

His chest ruptured, concaving against the deadly force that smashed the skin and shattered his bones. A vice clamped over his heart and the unwanted intrusion of his body started to retract, twisting and yanking on the organ in a malicious attempt to pull it free.

He screamed again throat raw and hurting.

He could feel the blood spouting from the gaping hole in his chest, running in macabre rivers down his skin, hot and blistering to the touch, the swarming crimson lathering his body.

He forced his eyes open. Dots swam violently.

The sheer agony seized hold.

His mother was praying fervently .

Kowalski stepped back with a hand over his mouth, body shaking uncontrollably.

Skipper laughed and tackled him into the snow pile.

Rico dropped the other arm and darted to the tactician side, cupping his face and murmuring words that didn't reach his ruined ears.

His father was showing him how to ride a bike.

He fell against the floor, breathing shallow and needy.

Kowalski was a laughing mess after attempting sing-star.

Skipper crushed his organ, face still blank.

Rico crouched beside him, the fireworks rocketing into the clear starry sky, exploding in a myriad of colours, green, orange, pink, yellow, blue, red.

Skipper started to drag his nails into the wall, The deep marks swimming over the canvas, forming words he couldn't read.

It was so far away, but so inviting. The warm light and chorus of angels grew in his mind. It was feeble, but he reached out for it, and the further he stretched the more the music enveloped, violins, cellos and flutes all raising their voices in a triumphant call.

"_Join us!" they sang. "Dance, Dance, Dance with the dead…"_

_**Where the band never sleeps  
>The dead waltz through the streets<br>And I'm slowly falling  
>There's a voice in my head<br>Whispering softly it says  
>"Join me, dance, dance…"<strong>_

"Private! I'm back from my date! They guy was a total sleaze though." Marlene chimed out as he went to swing open the door.

Locked? She shrugged and fished in her bag for her key; twisting and jiggling it until the lock clicked open and she shouldered open the door.

"Private!" She yelled, dumping her bag on the table and going to the sink to scrub her hands free of the grease she had picked up on the stairwell rail. "I want to tell you this! Where are you?" She sang out.

The soap smelled something terrible she realized. She lifted her lathered hands and breathed deeply. No, Peach and lemon, just like always. She span around, ready to sniff out cause of the strange odor.

She didn't have to.

Private was there, slumped on the ground like a puppet with the strings cut. Blood marked his grisly demise on the wall, a gory mess marking his death on the floor. Crimson leaks on the floor swirled and wove back to the dead boy.

The wallpaper was shredded and torn, hanging in strips, pointing at the motionless figure, drooping away from the carving in the wall.

DANCE.

**It's so long. And It took me so long. **

**Please review, I worked really hard on this and would kill for your opinion. **

**Hope you all love it. It's three AM and I have a compulsory chapel service at ten. I hate myself sometimes.**

**NEXT UP… MOAR SKANS!**

**So yeah.**

**Bye!**

**WAIT, what would you prefer to see out of these three options for later on?  
>1) Kowalski attempting to kill Skipper? (raised by the wolves, falling in reverse)<br>or  
>2) How Rico went all psycho? (Dead or alive, get scared.)<br>or  
>3) Rico being all Bitchy to Doris? (whore, get scared.)<strong>

**Ok. This is the serious end.**

**Seriously.**

**REVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW.**


	8. Chapter 8

**This was supposed to be a song-fic. But it isn't.**

**It's just random SkipperXHans with Manfredi and Johnson making an appearance, just because I luffs them too much. XD**

**Enjoy SkySpiritsTalentShow!  
>And all others reading this as well.<strong>

_**Beware Johnson's Potty mouth. BAD JOHNSON, BAD!**_

Skipper groaned and dropped his head heavily into his hands, the dull thump causing Hans to jump.

"This is pointless!" He moaned. "I am N E V E R going to be Manfredi."

The Dane swivelled the papers around to face him. "No one is asking you to be." He said, flicking through the vocabulary without interest. "The guy is a freak. What is it again? English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese. Not to mention broken Greek, Maori and sign language. "

"You forgot Morse code." Skipper grunted, lifting a finger.

Hans raised an eye-brow. "Okay list Nazi, He can speak Morse code as well."

Skipper chuckled. "Yes, because it is possible to _speak _Morse code."

Hans pulled a face and brushed his dark hair back from his face. "Well, of course you can. I mean Boop, boop, bop, boop,bop bop, bop, boop. Oh, burn!"

Skipper blinked his cobalt eyes inexpressively. "You have no idea what you just said did you?"

"Absolutely damn none. Care to enlighten me?"

"Nope. Hey! Look!" Skipper growled, lifting the thick sheets of language and hitting the other male with it lightly. "You are terrible, I'm off topic again!"

Hans rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "That's the idea! I'm just so eeeevil!"

Skipper hit him again. "Stop it Cruella devil! I really don't care!"

"Of course you do!" Hans gasped. "I would look great in Dalmatian!"

"Shut up. Please!" Skipper whined, reading the words again, slumping further back into his chair.

Hans lent forward, resting his chin on his fist and idly toying with the chewed red pencil. A silence grew between the pair of them, the Danes short attention span diminishing like a scrap of paper in a blazing inferno.

"Ok! I don't get it, why the heck does she want you learning Danish?" He finally demanded.

Skipper raised an eye-brow, flicking over the page. "Elementary my dear Dane. You, are Danish. We, are friends. I, need some form of second language." He shrugged. "The rest is Johnsons twisted mind."

"Heard that." She stated, breezing through the room and clipping him over the head as she passed, green eyes glittering playfully.

"Humph." He snorted, pushing the sheets towards Hans. "Test me." He commanded.

"Ok. Green."

"Something on the first two pages."

Hans snickered. "It is."

Skipper faltered. "Oh."

"Right!" Hans grinned. "We are doing it my way now!" He scooped up the sheets of paper and dropped the on the floor.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

Hans leaned over and grasped the elder's hands in his own and took a deep breath. "Elementary my dear American, you are Learning, using auditory memory."

Skipper opened his mouth to protest but was cut short by a meaningful glance from the warm eyed Dane. He sighed and motioned with their joined hands for him to continue.

"Ok. Lytte og gentag."

Skipper blinked.

"Listen and repeat." Hans sighed, tapping skippers head playfully. "Is anybody home up there? Or is it just storage space now?"

The ebony haired male frowned slightly, eyes tired. "Get on with it Søpapegøjer."

He smiled and looked up mischievously. "Giv mig din hand." He stated.

Skipper frowned and copied him, mouth struggling with the proper pronunciation, eyes flashing with frustration.

Hans repeated the words again. "Giv mig din hand."

The American was closer this time "Giv mig din hand." He repeated.

"Good!" Hans praised, squeezing his hands lightly. "Now what do you think it means?"

Skipper shrugged. "I don't know. Is it something to do with hands? Or Hans? Or you and hands?" He hesitated. "It's nothing dirty is it?" he asked suspiciously, receiving a round of laughter from the slightly younger male.

"No." He grinned. "It means, give me your hand."

"Oh." He mused. "Giv mig din hand, give me your hand…"

"Jeg bygge et slot ud af sand."

"Ho' crap… Uh, Again?"

"Jeg bygge et slot ud af sand." He repeated, slower than before, breaking down the sentence into bite sized chunks.

Skipper closed his eyes and bopped his head with each syllable. "Jeg bygge et slot ud af sand."

The Dane smiled. "Witch means…"

Skipper narrowed his eyes. "I have lots of sand?"

"Close, I build a castle out of sand."

He smiled quizzically. "Odd phrase." He noted.

"Any odder than give me your hand?"

The blue eyed man shrugged. "Not that big of a stretch I guess."

Hans nodded slowly and recited another phrase. "En eller anden måde, et eller andet sted, engang. Can you handle that?"

But Skipper was already relaying the sentence, words a bit sketchy in places and pronunciation questionable, but the idea was there. "It's something about cheese isn't it?" Skipper grinned.

"Cheese?" Hans shrieked, "Where the heck did you conjure the idea from!"

"I'm hungry all right!" He defended, "But if it's not cheese then what is it?"

"It means Anyplace, anywhere, anytime."

The blue eyed male cracked a small smile. "Ok, so I now know three pointless Danish phrases. Care to teach me something I can actually use?"

The chestnut eyes glinted . "Fine Skipper. Jeg elsker dig."

A faint flicker of recognition flashed through Skippers eyes. "Hold on…" He said, dragging the words out as he slipped away from the Dane.

His attention turned to the loose leaves on the floor and bent over to scrape through them.

Hans felt a cold sweat start to grow on the back of his neck, fingers twitching uncontrollably as he balled them into fists. "You are not going to find it on those Skipper." He urged, swallowing the ball of panic rising in his throat.

"Shhh!" He demanded. "It's on here I know it is…" His voice dropped away as he stared at the final sheet of paper, eyes dancing with confusion.

The Dane giggled nervously. "Good joke right?" He asked, casting his gaze towards his quivering hands.

"Sure Søpapegøjer." Skipper purred.

Hans jumped and span around in surprise as the words floating just past his ears, stopping suddenly seconds before he slammed into skipper, the older male hovering over him like a shadow. His hands moved to his shoulders, lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"It's a joke." He continued, moving closer, nose brushing the others as their eyes widened. "Nice lie."

The Dane was about to protest when he was silenced by a pair of soft lips covering his own, commanding and desperate at the same time. Hans's arms move of their own accord to knot around the Americans neck, eyes flickering closed and body rejoicing at the aching need being filled in. Skipper chuckled into the desperate lips, tearing himself away just, just long enough to whisper,

"Jeg elsker dig too, you crazy Dane."

Johnson smirked wildly and crossed her arms over her chest, watching from the balcony door as the two oblivious soldiers continued to kiss.

"How in the name of Neptune did you know that would work?" Manfredi Questioned, Johnson leaping backwards at the shock.

"God." She gasped. "How the fuck did you get there?"

The ginger grinned, waggling his fingers in her face. "We hippies have many undiscovered talents! We need to be quiet like the wind so the cops can't get our weed…" He joked, laughing as she batted his hands away from his face.

"Cut the crap retard." She giggled, shoving him in the chest.

He whimpered, brown eyes growing wide and he reached up to cover where she had pushed him. "Ow!" He whined. "Don't you know how horribly fragile I am? I've probably bruised terribly!"

"Oh go die in a hole!" She dismissed, peering back around the door frame.

He crept up behind her hand draped an arm over her shoulder. "But I don't know how to dig a hole. Can you dig one for me?"

"No, get a shovel and do it yourself you lazy prick!"

He gasped in feigned shock. "But I might break a nail!"

She looked up. "Don't let this face fool you, I really do care Manfredi, I really do."

"Yes!" He cheered. "I knew it! But seriously how did you get them to do that?" He asked.

"Oh." She laughed. "I did nothing. I only got them I the same room and sexual tension did the rest."

Manfredi blinked, toying with the crazy bracelet around his wrist. "They have sexual tension?"

The blonde sighed. "You don't pay attention to anything, do you?"

"I'm sorry, what was that? I was distracted by the shiny door knob."

She rolled her green eyes and took another look inside. "Holy Shit! We might want to stop them before they start going at it on the table!" She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"And just how do we do that?" Manfredi asked, leaning over her shoulder, cringing at the sight of the two soldiers making out.

Johnson bared her sharp teeth. "Easy."

Skipper jumped away as he heard the loud shout, instantly fixing his hair and clothes. "Manfredi?" He shouted.

The ginger Looked sheepishly up from the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey Skippy. Sup Hans."

"Sup?" Hans replied, one eye-brow raised.

"Oh my god!" Johnson yelled. "Manfredi you klutz!"

The lieutenant sat up and glared openly at the girl. "Yep. That's me. Klutzy old manfredi, Oh wait… Oops!" He mocked, swinging out a leg and catching the team leaders, send her crashing to the floor as well.

"Bitch, it's on." She growled, sitting up and leaping into a attack position.

Manfredi Laughed. "Bring it!" He retaliated, getting painfully to his feet.

The leader took a step forward and he rushed backwards out the door, screaming as loud as possible. "FREEDOM AND PEACE FOR ALL I SAY!"

"WIMP!" Johnson retorted, sprinting lightly after the lanky soldier.

Hans Looked back up at Skipper. "What the heck was that?"

Skippers shoulders slumped. "A normal Tuesday." He sighed.

The Dane was quiet for a moment before grinning predatorily up at the ebony haired male. "When can I make-out with you again?" he questioned, eyes glinting sharply.

Skipper smiled and hauled him off the chair. "En eller anden måde, et eller andet sted, engang." He chuckled.

"Good." He replied before reeling the older soldier in for another hungry kiss.

**TROLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLO.**

**Not a song-fic, but I did use some of the lyrics :D**

**By the way, all you reviews make my day! Lol, that rhymed… ANYWAY! I hope you liked it because I did when I really should be studying, so if I fail my social studies exam, I'm blaming you all!**

**By the way, yes, I do picture Manfredi as a childish, joking, multi-language speaking freak and Johnson as a swearing, crazy, fight filled mother fire-trucker!**

**And the sharp teeth is related to the "UNIT K" thing from Chapter 4.**

**K. That's it. Bye.**


	9. Chapter 9

Ok. Believe it or not I have been desperately trying to find something to write. But nothing has grabbed me. And I'm sorry about that. It really sucks. Also I had exams so… EXCUSE!

So now I am going into full blown writing mode. I WILL write something for you. Yes I will. (And just so you know I am writing this as a personal motivator… I'm not that mental…)

So here we go. How about some kico? I like Kico…

_PAIRING : Kico.  
>SONG: Shake U by Her Bright Skies<em>

Rico stopped at the doorway. It was like a habit.

He lent against the frame and let his head list to the side, eyes drifting as much as they pleased. Kowalski had his back to him, arms spread and planted on the wooden desk, pale skinny limbs on show as the blue jersey was rolled up to his elbows. His head was bent forward, blue-black hair flopping forward, the back of his neck bare and bent as his head dropped down. The thin torso stretched down to the long legs that were planted solidly into the ground, the slight swaying of his body enough to tell him he was in deep thought.

The weapons expert frowned slightly, It was almost sad what he was doing, watching from a distance. Toying with what he wanted but could never have. It was about as stupid as playing with hot coals, which he had done at one point, the chances of getting burned mounting with ever millisecond you touched them. And when you got burned, it stung. As Impulsive as he was the ever present threat of the scorching skin was enough to keep him at bay.

Barely.

But lucky little Kowalski didn't even realise that his best friend spent his free time debating with himself and watching him whenever he wouldn't notice. He didn't care, not in the way Rico was desperately pleading for him too.

_**we were young, just twenty-one**__**  
><strong>__**this is where our lives begun**_

He had known him first. The first one out of the crazy group that had soon become closer then family. He still recalled the feeling of adrenaline as he noticed the guards back was turned and the quick search for a weapon that turned up a metal chair.

Upon Swinging the object and having it crack against the idiots skull he was almost frozen. A tall, almost elfin looking boy had his pale, sharp face turned into a look of dark rage and determination, hair slightly messed and handing over the left side of his face.

It was only after he learnt that Norman had been pointing a gun at the strangely beautiful boy, threatening to shoot.

But all Kowalski did was rise slowly from the floor, almost shaking as he let his pale blue eyes settle on him. Wiping one hand off on the side of his pants he offered it, almost dubiously, voice smooth and rich as crushed velvet. _"Thanks for that. I'm Kowalski, And you are?"_

His language function had seemed to have shut down leaving him groping for words amid the crazy haze that had descended on his mind. _"Uh… Rico."_

"_Nice. Tell me? Did you seriously just smack that guard with a chair?"_

"_Well it wasn't a fez now was it?"_

The first words that had built up to the rest of his life. A life of Crazy Happenings where nothing seems to sit still for even a moment, and every second could be your last.

_**now you've left me wondering**__**  
><strong>__**and asking for more**_

He knew what would happen if he indulged his fantasies. He would walk up to Kowalski as dig a hand deep into the soft blue hair, and Kowalski would turn, brows furrowed and mouth down turned into a frown. He would open his mouth to question him and he would quiet him by placing a finger against the soft lips. It would trace his jawbone and linger under his chin, drawing him in. And he would kiss him. All the pent up frustration of 3 years transforming into a direct shot of lust and excitement.

He bit his bottom lip as the fantasy took a bolt of reality.

He would be pushed aside, Kowalksi would yell, or not say anything at all. Shock and horror would be written on his face, quickly turning into disgust. He would leave, or make him leave. Then skipper would be informed. The whole thing would escalate and blow into mega proportions, enough to kill anyone.

But he couldn't help but wonder. What if he kissed back? What if he pulled away to smile and ask why it took so long?

Rico almost swore out loud, hating himself for letting that sliver of hope dangle in front of him in the first place. Kowalski was a friend. No more. He could dream all he wanted, but try anything and it would all shatter like a bullet through a pane of glass. _****_

_**you're just one of those girls**__**  
><strong>__**that'll keep me up all night**_

This whole drama of himself and Kowalski wasn't just a silly little idea he was toying with half-heartedly, but a full blown fixation that would disintegrate sleep and drop him down the long tunnel of insomnia every time it crossed his mind.

Occasionally it wasn't so bad. He wouldn't think about what he felt or how Kowalski did. Just about the scientist. Everything that made him so damn near perfect.

Usually it was just depressing and gut-wrenching. _**  
><strong>__**  
><strong>__**Now what am i supposed to do**__**  
><strong>__**when everything feels so right?**_

It was then he was pulled from the depths of his thoughts by a loud call. He jerked up right and fixed a silly grin in place. Kowalski had a hand on his hip, one eye-brow cocked at that angle of 'you have to be kidding me.'

"Are you alright there?" He asked, a slight chuckle in his voice. "You looked like you were in an upright coma or something." He scoffed, gesturing him closer with a wave.

Rico bolted forward and lent over the scientists shoulder. The seemingly endless pages of scribbles and the occasional drawing swamped the desk entirely. Kowalski sighed and rubbed his skull with the end of his yellow pencil.

"Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to just go completely mental and give up on everything." He sighed, dragging a chair over and slumping into it, Rico fetching his own diligently and curling up his legs so they stayed trapped under his body.

"Nah-uh." He insisted. "Oo r Too smat too beh Crazeh."

"Still I appear to be giving it my best shot don't I?" Kowalski asked The tip of the pencil now going between his teeth as he studied the papers.

Rico smiled. "Nah-uh."_**  
><strong>__**  
><strong>__**and i'm in love with you**__**  
><strong>__**let's see this through**__**  
><strong>__**i swear to god this ship is sinking  
><strong>__**  
><strong>_As Kowalski suddenly gasped and grinned wickedly his pencil returned to the paper and Rico found himself able to relax. In fact this view point was better than the last, revealing the pale lit up eyes covered by black eye-brows. One was coated by the fringe that hung around the base of his ear, the hair curling ever so slightly. His nose was long and straight, Kowalski not usually the one go get a fist to the face. And then there was the mouth, witch at this moment was now flattened into a hard line as he focused. It still didn't distract from the soft lips witch seemed to have pierced him through the middle with a spear, reeling him back in like a fish on the end of a line.

Damn. He bit his lip again and twisted a hand into his own tousled hair, yanking it down harshly, attempting to distract from the gnawing longing in his gut.

Any other time with any other person and he would have gotten up and gone, but who knew what would happen if he left? Kowalski did have a tendency to invent things that threatened the universe.

Plus wouldn't it be better to go down with the sinking ship to repair its hull after it realizes that its failed and goes into a mild case of depression?  
><em><strong><br>**__**i know**____**  
><strong>__**i shouldn't have counted on you**_

The weapons expert slunk from his chair and walked quietly around the lab, footsteps light as he glanced at the colourful schematics on the walls and the tools on the tables, shelves and occasionally the floor. Chemicals sat lined up in a certain order, all of them coloured differently and stored in different bottles and glass jars. Rico tipped his head to the side and held his fingers up in the shape of a square, cutting off the outside of the chemicals. The balance was perfect, the entire organized chaos holding the possibility to be a great paining.

Or better yet…

He swung around and lined the square up with Kowalski instead. Long shadows splayed over his face and highlighted his handsome features. The pencil was being flickered about in his left hand, right pulling his fringe from his eyes sharply as he glowered at the math.

_**I'm caught**__**  
><strong>__**can't seem to shake you off**_

Kowalski looked up, head rotated to glance at the weapons expert. Upon noticing the square and guilty expression he smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You Ok there?" He asked. "I know I'm a square. I don't need you telling me as well."

Rico nodded with a so-so expression. "Meh. I ges."

Internally his heart was pounding._****_

_**they should have never said "i told you so"**__**  
><strong>__**and i cannot hate you**__**  
><strong>__**i'm not sure i want to**_

_The girl grinned and tugged on another boot, fingers working swiftly with the laces. "On day you'll fall in love."_

_He sat up and raised an eye-brow. "Yes, because all the ladies love me." He scoffed, tossing the ball in her direction. She side-stepped it easily and giggled, sitting back down on the mattress an poking him gently in the leg. _

"_No! I'm serious Ricy. One day you are going to see someone and it'll be like-" She snapped her fingers. "WOMPH. Love."_

_He snorted and didn't even bother rising from where he was sprawled. _

"_And when you do I'll be there, standing in the corner going 'I told you so! I told you'!" She added, nudging him again._

_He sighed melodramatically. "Oh the innocence of the youth." He mocked. "But seriously Miya, all that love at first sight stuff doesn't exist."_

"_Pessimist." She stated, twirling a scarf around her neck. _

_He sat up and held his arms open, letting his sister lean in for a hug. "Where you going again?" He mumbled._

"_Damiens Party." She replied, squeezing him again before standing up right, noticing the doubt in his eyes. _

"_Kay, just don't stay out too late all right?" He warned._

_She saluted and smiled. "I'll be home by 10." _

Right about now he wished she was here to tell him she was right. In fact he could really use her soppy crazy advice right about now. _**  
><strong>__**  
><strong>__**they should have never said "i told you so"**__**  
><strong>__**now i can't forget you**__**  
><strong>__**i don't even want to**_

But no doubt she's only say something like 'Don't let fear get in the way of true love' It was so cliché and screamed Miya.

He could feel his eyes start to burn and he cursed loudly, running a hand over the back of his eyes. Insomnia had its pitfalls. His emotions were all over the show at the moment, running riot throughout his body.

And then there was the hint of genuine sadness hidden behind it. _****_

_**the memories i keep inside**__**  
><strong>__**they all fade away somehow**_

"Rico?"

He looked over and smiled weakly, waving a hand airily, scrubbing away another tear as Kowalski stared with worry etched on his face. He stood up and crossed over quickly, eyes dark with concern. "Don't give me that." He murmured. "What is it?"

He shrugged and turned away slightly, running a hand through his hair in a placid attempt to smooth it down , the strands sticking up in defiance.

Kowalski Lay a hand on his shoulder, Rico freezing at the touch, warmth echoing out away from the contact sending tiny shudders through his body. "No." He stated. "Rico if something is troubling you to the point of tears I would like to know why." _**  
><strong>__**  
><strong>__**i'm dreaming of the good old times**__**  
><strong>__**when i could feel safe and sound**_

"Miya." He stated finally.

Back before Dr Logan had messed with his vocal chords Kowalski had been quizzing him about his past and he was very sure to mention his younger sibling who was gunned down during a hit and run for no reason whatsoever.

And he seemed to have remembered. Kowalski's face dulled and he stopped running his mouth and let his other arm drop. "Oh." He mumbled. "Right."

Rico nodded and ran a finger under his eye, catching another tear. "Yah." He agreed, moving to twist away only to get pulled back around again._**  
><strong>__**  
><strong>__**i will make you bend and break**__**  
><strong>__**i will be your greatest mistake**_

The long arms splayed over his shoulders, pulling him into a hug and keeping him there. Words bounced off deaf ears, the weapons experts mind utterly blanking in that moment. Kowalski was so warm, heat attacking his body at every single point of contact and the comforting touch stabbing him deep. He caught nothing as the world was just a shady pit of bliss.

In all honesty he hadn't even notice what he had done until he regained the use of conscious thought. Kowalski looked a little confused and shocked, arms braced against the table and legs on either side of the weapons expert from where he was perched on the nearest table. Rico had his arms knotted around his waist, pulling him close, forcing Kowalski's back to arch and stretch.

It was then shock took hold, body seizing up, pressing them even tighter together, noses almost brushing. _**  
><strong>__**  
><strong>__**you gotta stop and ask yourself**__**  
><strong>__**is this what you wished for?**__****_

He could feel Kowalski's breath against his face as the scientist breathed deeply, obviously trying to keep calm or sum up for a question.

It was then Rico noticed that he had two options. Walk away and let their friendship be forever altered or try something and let their friendship be forever altered. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, or more logically Kowalski's left leg and Kowalski's right leg.

He heard the tactician draw a deep breath, ready to say something, and instinct took hold. Impulses driving him forward yet again.

He lay a finger against the parted lips, feeling the soft supple skin under the limb. The tactician stopped under the touch, breath catching in his throat and words drizzling off into nothing. The other hand slowly traced down from his ear, following the jawline right the way down to his chin. A single finger lingered underneath it, more than enough to lure his head forward those few centimetres necessary to allow their lips to connect.

Bliss soared down through his body the moment his mouth brushed the scientists, the soft skin yielding under his touch. Kowalski's head tilted slightly and Rico pushed just that little harder, force adding enough pressure to push their lips closer, kicking the soaring feeling up a notch.

He was forced to stop by a pair of palms pushing on his chest slightly. He pulled away sharply and went to retreat a good meter only to have the pushy hands turn into fists and hold him in place. Kowalski was looking past him, eyes glazed like he was trapped inside his own mind. Rico licked his lips and looked away from Kowalski's kiss swollen pair, the red heat of blush staining his neck and face scarlet.

Without warning Kowalski spoke.

"Why?" the tone was questioning and curious, but his eyes were still glazed.

Rico sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Cuz I Wuv oo," he stated finally, hands twisting around each other, sweaty palms colliding. "How oo fee'?" He blurted out afterwards.

Kowalski blinked and the glazed look disappeared, eyes sharp and focusing again. He stopped and tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing, but vice like fists not letting go. "In all honesty I never really have it any thought…" He mused arms twitching slightly. "However I do have to say that what I just experienced was …" He trailed off, eyes flickering as he searched for the right word.

"W'erd" Rico muttered.

The scientists features softened and he smiled, one hand rising to run the back of it over his cheek. "Breath-taking." He stated.

Rico paused. A million though patterns firing at once, ideas crossing and changing, the thoughts impossible to track as he attempted to sift through what remained. It seemed an impossible task as more questions continued to moun-

Kowalski dragged him close and pressed their lips decidedly against each-others.

And again Rico's mind blanked

_**YAY. And I did it. But it's 4am.**_

_**The things I do for you… :D**_

_**Anyway, thank you for all the lovely reviews! And up next is the tale of how private joined the team and after that is Cipper. What is Cipper? Meh. You work it out. IT'S 4AM!  
><strong>_


	10. Chapter 10

**HI!**

**I kinda feel like this is fail but Meh. I tried and if later on I get thrown into jail for it I'll go back and change it.**

**So Mary C, you said sweet and I gave you Sad. (Facepalm) I fail at life in general. It can Kind of be perceived as sweet though? At least I didn't go with my first idea witch involved lots of guns and a whole lotta blood. **

His lips twitched further into a frown as the sobbing continued to echo around the small plane. He sank further back into the seat and hit his pencil against the side of his clip-board, now biting his bottom lip as he looked blankly at the door just ahead of him. Sunlight was pouring in from the windows, the small aircraft lit up like a stage, But the Muffled howls let him know it was obviously a tragic performance.

He looked back down at the scrawled letters and numbers, but his conflicting emotions sent the information scattering dizzily around his head. Sighing in resentment he tilted the clip-board to the side and started to write, jagged script spilling over the blank segments of paper.

_I know I should care, but I don't. Not in the way Rico and Skipper do. I mean I do care but-_

He growled and slashed the black ink through his writing and lent forward, head hitting the paper and eyes closing in pain. His head was still throbbing and the blood was starting to dry to his shirt, sticking it uncomfortably to his skin.

"I didn't know you were Car-sick Cyborg?"

Kowalski looked, up one eye-brow raised, but Rico was already off topic again.

"Or is it Plane sick? Flight sick?" He offered, on hand flopping back and forth, mouth turned into a quizzical pout.

"I believe the correct terminology is Motion-sickness, as it refers to all modes of transportation." The strategist said as his friend strolled over and threw himself into the seat beside him, snatching up the clip-board and looking at it through narrowed eyes.

Kowalski didn't even bother complaining. As Impulsive, annoying and frustrating the other male was, he had saved his life, and he was his best friend.

"Ah." He mused. "You've made a mistake." He noted.

"What?" Kowalski shouted, grabbing the clip-board back, tugging on his hair as he scanned the equations.

Rico laughed, mouth wide and eye's devilish. "You're too easy Cyborg. Even _Year 7 _science is beyond me. For me to have even the faintest shit about what that was it would have to be dumbed down about…" He paused, before laughing again. "Nah. Hell will freeze over before I ever understand something that smart."

Kowalski pointed his pen in his face. "Don't do that again. Ever." He warned.

The weapons expert bit down on the biro and jerked it out of The scientists grasp to spit it at the other side of the room. "What? Worried about making a syntax error? Ew. Where the hell have you been keeping that pen?" He grimaced, rubbing his lower lip with the back of his hand.

Kowalski smirked and pulled a crayon from his pocket, scribbling on the page of equations. "It was 'no bite nail varnish' and apparently you don't like the taste. Interesting."

Rico laughed. "You Sly Bitch! Well you win this round, that stuff is foul."

"Finally! My pens are safe!" He rejoiced.

There was a moment of silence.

"How's the kid." He asked finally, voice dropping as he shot another look towards the door.

Rico frowned and lent back, running his hands thorugh his hair and exhaling deeply. "Not good Walski. His Family have all been shot dead, on the way to church no less, and now he has now where to go? How would you react."

Kowalski growled and looked away. "You know how. I would laugh as they bled out and go tap-dance on their graves."

Rico didn't comment on the look of absolute conviction and instead lay a hand on his shoulder. "Okay… How would you react if Skipper or I was shot and killed on this mission?"

The scientist was ready to shoot a bitter remark, but stopped himself. This wasn't about him. He looked away and thought it over before saying. "I probably would have gone and shot as many people as I could." He hesitated. "And that is a lot of people."

"I know."

Rico's voice was soft as he turned to look out the windows, arms folded across his chest and gaze searching the clouds endlessly, like the answers to life's problems were spelled out in the textured water vapour.

"You know more about me than any other person. You know that." He eventually stated. "I never told Skipper or Johnson anything. They never needed to know."

Kowalski nodded slightly. "You care about the kid don't you."

Rico held up his fingers, about an inch apart. "He was this close to being shot Walski, and I saved him." He turned away. "Why couldn't I save her?"

Kowalski didn't respond as Skipper came through the door, arm over the shoulder of the still red-eyed boy. He wasn't screaming or howling now, but the pain was still evident on his face. The Dark curls were springing up around his face, the scattering of freckles and earnest and shattered dark blue eyes holding the same mournful attitude. Skipper gently guided him towards the other side of the room and sat him down on the bench.

"There ya go soldier. You feeling alright-" He stopped himself, eyes flashing for a moment before changing tact. "I want you to meet some of the best people you will meet from here on out." He murmured, gesturing towards the pair on the other side of the small aircraft. "Kowalski and Rico."

Rico smiled weakly, the usual bright spark missing. "Or Cyborg and Maniac. Whichever names you wanna use I guess." He nodded at skipper. "That's Paranoid. And we had a good friend who went by 'Badass.'" He chuckled.

Skipper glared. "My Paranoia is keeping me alive soldier."

That was the wrong choice of words apparently as the boy whimpered and buried his head in his hands again, body shaking and trembling. Skipper took a half-step back and covered his mouth with his hands.

"I can't do this." Rico Growled, Getting up and stalking towards the front of the plane, hands clenched into balls at his side.

"Whats up with-"

Kowalski cut him off. "He'll tell you when he's ready Skipper." And with that stood and walked over to the smaller boy.

Rico had been right on it with what he'd said. He may not have cared for his flesh and blood family, but he cared for the one he had now. And if the thought of losing them was only a scratch on what this kid was going through the agony would be enough to rip him open from the inside out. And surprisingly, he cared. He really did care.

"Now." He said, reaching out and taking hold of the blood stained hands in his own, pulling them down away from his face. Kneeling down he held onto the trembling grip and looked the boy in the eyes. "I'm not going to tell you are going to get over this." He murmured. "Because you are not going to. Every day you are going to wake up and realize that the ones you love aren't here anymore, and it is going to hurt like you lost them again. This pain will eat you alive day after day and you won't be able to stop it. But you know what?"

"What?" He asked, voice raspy and strangled, tear stained face dark with vivid anguish.

He smiled, a faint bitter smile to hide the gaping rift that was being torn open inside him again. "One day you're going to get to a point when you realize that it doesn't hurt so much anymore. It will never be the same, and you'll never forget the pain, but it will be better than it was before, and that's all you're ever going to get." He paused. "I lost someone very dear to me recently. She saved my life in more way than one and I couldn't save her. But it's ok. Because I know nothing could have changed the way things happened, and by always remembering her I'm doing all I can to keep her alive." He was only now aware he was crying, limbs shaking desperately. "You and I are going through the same thing. You, Me, Rico, Skipper. Were all one big messed up family of people hurting inside."

He looked up from where he had been staring at his trembling fingers, and through blurry eyes saw a look of loss and defeat in the boys eyes. "We're the fighters kid. And nothing is going to stop us from pulling through on the other side."

It was then he felt the strong grip on his shoulders, turning him around to face the owner. Both Skipper and Rico had tears in their eyes as they sat crouched at arm's length.

"You're crying?" Rico asked, eyes filling further.

Kowalski nodded. "It's called Grieving." He bit his lip and forced back the sob. "I never did get the chance to do it."

Skipper nodded. "Good. Johnson's a person worth grieving." He turned to address the sobbing boy, arms wide. "What about you private? You want to come Grieve with a group of crazies?"

Surprisingly the teen slipped from his seat and fell into the leaders outstretched arms. Kowalski blinked as Rico grabbed his arm and pulled him forcefully into what was turning into a group hug.

And that was how they remained for the rest of the flight, curled up together; together mourning the separate people they had all lost. Weather years ago or on that exact day the person had passed they let the tears fall and let themselves grieve.

_Part of missing someone, is half of what makes them a great memory._

**And joke time.**

**Why did the kid fall off his bike?  
>Because his mother threw a fridge at him. XD<strong>

**Ok. After this they landed, Private was sent to live with his uncle Nigel, but he never forgot the strange people he met that day, the penguins never forgot him ra ra ra… one year later on the way to get milk for the hotel fridge on his and his uncles trip to New York He interrupts a violent fight. Who better than Skipper, Kowalski and Rico to be right in there. They have the whole OMG ITZ YEEEW moment and Private joins them.**

**(Just realized this stuffs up the timeline I usually work with when it comes to Manfredi and Johnson. If Johnsons dead, Rico's voice should be stuffed. Meh, whatever.)**

**:) Kay. I'm done!**

**Up next is CIPPEEEEEEER. And then something else I can't be bothered looking into right now. So Meh. I'm tired. Deal with it. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Ok. I heard the song and was like **

**O.o **  
><em><strong>(Da Fauq?)<strong>_

**Then like**

**XD  
><strong>_**(Damn this is good!)**_

**Then like**

**O.O  
><strong>_**(EPIPHANY!)**_

**So this is my screwed up brain baby witch I call CIPPER! I have no Idea if this has been done before but you know, I started this thing so I could write stories based around the most mental parings I could think of. So far, I **_**haven't really **_**done that, so now it's going to start. **

**We got Kofredi, Mans, Jipper, Ravio, among other seriously… **_**original **_**… pairings coming up. So, you know. Stick Around I guess!**

**But I digress. So I give you Clemson and Skipper.**

**HOWEVER: I do feel the need to say that this one-shot should probably NOT be read by small children. There's nothing really bad in it, but it will lead to possibly awkward questions X/**

**I'm too much of a creeper for my own good.**

_**Song: Situations by Escape the Fate  
>Pairing: Cipper. (Clemson and Skipper)<strong>_

Skipper… wasn't a party person. The loud music and stupid antics always managed to tick him off more than just a little.

And yet there he was, slumped at a bar as Marlene celebrated her birthday with gusto among the club patrons, Julian more than happy to insist the girl had her party here, possibly an attempt to woo her. He could occasionally catch snippets of conversations and drunken banter brushing past his ears as he contemplated how much longer he would have to stay in order to make it not rude to be leaving.

Exhaling he lent forward on the wooden bar counter, toying idly with his drink, bored silly by the whole situation. At least up until about 4 minutes ago he'd had his lieutenant to be bored with. That had worked until around four minutes ago when Marlene's exuberant cousins had dragged him towards the dance-floor. Unsurprisingly Kowalski had been pulled away stammering excuses and attempting to squirm away, but Becky and Stacy had been holding his arms firmly. He wasn't going anywhere.

And now he was stuck drinking and waiting for something to happen to zest up the evening, or make it end, whatever came first.

It was then he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He span around sharply, flashing and colourful lights casting an odd glow over the man's features. His eyes were glinting with cynicism, thinly veiled with a fake look of pleased surprise, mouth twisted into a smirk. The long Ginger hair was pulled back and held up by a thick brown hair-tie, only a few stray strands hanging in his face.

He gasped, one hand rising up to his chest. "Oh My! Skipper? Is that you? How long has it been?" He gasped, slipping into the bar-stool beside him hand moving from his shoulder to his knee as he did.

Skipper glared, hard eyes tracking his every move. "Apparently not long enough." He growled.

Clemson smiled and squeezed the team leaders knee gently, bright aqua eyes flickering with something that was starting to make the commando more wary, as he stated. "My, my. Always the Kidder, am I right?"

_**These situations,  
>Are irrelevant now.<strong>_

Skipper scowled and shifted away, the movement making the slender man laugh brightly. "Skipper, you really should, stop living in the past, and I know that we didn't meet under great circumstances, but still, we can still be friends can't we?" He asked innocently, twirling a lock of the bright ginger hair around his finger.

"Oh yes," He growled sarcastically, "Because I always end on good terms with my enemies."

"There you go, see?" Clemson laughed, purposely missing the bitter remark, as he plucked the bottle from Skippers hand with a wink. "We don't have to hate each other, what happened then is irrelevant to now." He raised he bottle as if to drink before pausing, eyes catching to his left.

He sat forward, eyes wider. "Kelsey? Kelsey! Hi, Babe, call me!" He shouted, waving a phone gestures at the small brown haired woman who was dancing not too far away.

Skipper instantly scanned the petite girl for any threats, but aside from waving and blowing Clemson and light air kiss with a dopey giggle, she didn't seem to care about what he was doing.

"Hey you know what? Let me buy you a drink Skipper, you look about as sober as a sheep in the slaughter house." Clemson laughed, spinning around and gesturing the bar attendant over.

The Black haired male scowled and took a deep drink from the bottle that had found it's way back into his hand. The liquid didn't scorch and burn like it had before, now slipping down his throat with ease. Perhaps he had been drinking to long? He pulled the bottle away and eyed it suspiciously, only to see a small fruity looking cocktail be pushed over to him.

Clemson was holding his expectantly, straw held lightly between his fingers as he watched the leader with something akin to knowledge in his eyes. He tilted his head towards the drink. "Aren't you going to try a sip?" He asked, voice growing a slightly hard edge.

Skipper scowled and titled back his original drink, letting it coat the inside of his mouth, leaving a strange furry after-taste.

The con-artist rolled his eyes and nudged it closer. "Come on Skipper, there's no arsenic in it I promise you." He crooned, looking at him imploringly.

Skipper lent forward, face only an inch from the villains as he snarled lowly. "Do you think I was born yesterday?"

"Fine!" He resigned, sitting back and sipping his own drink. "Have it your way, but remind me to never invite you to one of my parties."

Skipper couldn't help but smirk. Clemson may be able to outsmart people like Ringtail, but he was too sharp to fall for his conniving little lies.

_**She loves the way that I tease,  
>I love the way that she breaths.<strong>_

"So what is it you want?" He asked finally, spinning the now empty bottle across the table. "I've noticed when you do something, you do it for a purpose, so 'fess up."

Clemson looked genuinely surprised for a moment, the usual hint of deception vanishing as the lights flashed orange. "Up to something? Skipper? Really? I'm not Hans."

The soldier let out a bark of laughter. "So you two have met then?" he asked, attempting to keep a calm face despite the stab of panic that bolted through him at that moment.

The con artist nodded. "Uh-huh. Bit of a character isn't he?" He stopped and suddenly grinned darkly. "Don't worry Ol'Skippy, he isn't saying anything."

Skipper looked away, the lights now irritating his eyes as he fought to gather his thoughts from where they were now scattered. "That would be because there isn't anything to say." He stated, finding the words and managing to string them together in a sentence.

Why was that getting so difficult?

_**I touched her Oooh,  
>She touched my Ahhhh,<br>It was the craziest thing!  
>I love the girls who hate to love because they're just like me. <strong>_

Clemson lent back slightly, skinny fingers gripping the counter of the bar and he lent on it, head in his palm as he watched the team leaders balance start to sway from where he was perched, eye-lids fluttering slightly.

"Skipper are you feeling ok?" He asked a toying level of worry in his tone as he spoke.

The agent growled slightly, the sound dripping off as a warm feeling skated over his back and shoulders, coiling there. He tilted his neck to the left to see the con-artist looking down on him with nothing short of detachment in his eyes.

"The lights are blurry aren't they? It hurts your eyes?" He questioned, fingertips massaging the muscle of his shoulder as he lent closer. "Skipper? You still with me skippy?"

"Don't call me Skippy." He muttered, focusing on the males face as the lights dimmed slowly, letting his gaze adjust to the ever changing swirls of light. "Nah… Nah… It's alright now…" He managed to get out, surprised to hear how clear his voice was.

He was also surprised to see just how well his muscles were responding as the taller ginger tugged him from the chair and onto the ground. He didn't even think as he shifted his trajectory to land square on the ground instead of on a pile of clothing, it came so easily. It was like his brain was numb but his body still fell into its natural performances.

"Then I hope you won't object to a dance?" Clemson laughed, tugging the team-leader onto the dance-floor with ease as he walked swiftly beside him, hardly stumbling despite how the deafening thuds of the music were seeming to be rising and falling like someone was sitting there messing with the volume buttons.

People grumbled and grunted as the taller male dragged him through the crowd, nails biting into his wrist sharply. The pain didn't register though, it seemed like a reflex to know that that was pain, but it was like he was detached from his body and somewhere on the other side of the universe another skipper was standing at the centre of drunken and lustful people with bad intentions swaying and dancing, hissing and trying to squirm away from the vice grip.

The light was bathing over the people, including his partner. The typically aesthetically beautiful features a wash with crimson, jade and violet and the colours vibrated over the planes of his face, long hair swinging as he tossed his head back and laughed, showing off a straight row of perfect and even teeth.

Perhaps that was why Clemson was so good at what he did? He was able to trick lie and deceive using all means necessary, that helped, but possibly his biggest aid was that he was naturally eye-catching to both females and males, whether they chose to admit it or not. And that could swing even further into his favour if he let it.

He could feel eyes on him as he let his slightly drooping eye-lids open a fraction wider to take in the con-artists sharp and knowing gaze. Clemson shuffled closer and bent his head down, still swaying and dancing to the music as he spoke.

"You're staring. Any reason?"

Skipper shook his head, now noticing how dry his mouth was as a pair of feather-light hands snaked onto his hips and pulled him ever so slightly closer.

He didn't speak for a moment or two before drawling. "Because I think I might be able to name a few…"

_**A certain girl, she took my hand and ran it up her thigh,  
>she licked her lips and pulled my hair,<br>I fall in love for a night. **_

Clemson was swaying against him, body flowing and fuzzy around the edges as the blurry mass of people morphed into one ever changing blob. The music swarmed over them and the flickering lights draping everything in a crazy glow. He made to pull away knowing that something had happened, he just couldn't pick what. It was dangerous to be out like this, but for what reason he couldn't remember. Hands caught his own and dragged him back, skimming up the inside of his arms and down his sides.

"I've been doing my research Skipper." Clemson purred in his ear, the words distorted and faded as if he were speaking through water, almost undistinguishable against the pounding bass and fluttering pitch of the music. "I learnt an awful lot about you…" He felt the sharp bite of nails in the back of his hand and the ginger grasped it tightly and slowly but purposefully directed it.

"And what did you find out?" He asked, surprised by the clear tone of his voice in stark comparison to the blurred vision and fluctuating hearing.

"Oh, just about your friends… Colleuges… Sexual orientation…" He growled.

It was then he realised that the rough material under his palm was the denim coating the inside of Clemson's thigh.

He wanted to pull away and fight it, but the little voice in the back of his head that was screaming abuse as ever being consumed by the hazy fog that was draping over his mind, warm and comforting. Briefly the still functioning part of his mind came out with one sharp word, harsh and direct as a whip crack

_DRUGGED_

But it seemed impossible to keep hold of the idea, the thought wriggling and twisting back into the blurred mass of sensations and simple blissful emotions.

A hand skated over his jaw and brushed past his ear. He could feel the hot breath against his neck as the slender fingers knotted into the hair at the base of his skull, tugging his head back into the vulnerable position. The music changed, thrumming growing louder and more insistent. Another hand with feather-light touches traced light patterns over his jaw and face, demanding and possessive.

He noticed that his hand was still drifting up and down the villains leg, but no hand was holding it there. He moved to withdraw it when he was distracted. The thudding skipped up again, roaring of the crowd driving bronze nails through his skull. A soft pressure enveloped his lips, fitting deeply into the grooves with harsh and wanting kisses.

Skipper knew that he shouldn't be kissing the person, the name now escaping him, but it felt so _nice, _who would really care?

_**She can't behave. **_

As if moments later he was in his own room, like a section of the drama unfolding had been cut out. Hands were selfishly mapping out the area of his body as he fought to keep the soft lips against his own. A sharp thud sounded, the pain not registering as his back was slammed against the wall.

_**And I'm just a slave. **_

A hand disappeared for a moment, a soft tickling around his neck and face following it back when it returned. He was pulled down again as without realizing it he tried to squirm away.

_Why? _It was something he couldn't answer.

Something was telling him that something was off, telling him not to be the lamb that lay with the lion, but the thoughts were lost as quickly as they came.

_**Don't worry I'll be gone when the morning comes.**_

He was moved, a strong push against his chest sending him stumbling backwards and landing heavily against the mattress. He opened his eyes, the world still dancing and changing as he watched on blearily. A weight crawled on top of him, warm and comfortable. He could feel the warm breath against his face, aquamarine pools glinting back at him. Their hair hung limp, ginger creating a shroud around his head and face. A sly smirk fluttered under the distorted vision and a smooth crooning purr replaced the roaring in his ears.

"Don't worry, I'll be gone when the morning comes…" They promised.

But who were they anyway?

_**Darling,  
>what is going on?<strong>_

It wasn't those sharp eyes that got him, not the clear and deep aqua irises.

But it was the expression. That knowing and alluring mask hidden by a tissue thin look of fake shock and confusion.

Skipper slammed his hands on the table, leaning down and getting right up in the man's face as he hissed lowly. "What the fuck did you do last night."

"Skipper?" Clemosn asked, shuffling back slightly in his chair and readjusting the scarf around his neck, a sure sign of nervousness as he shot a look at the girl next to him, her eyes wide with shock and lower lip quivering slightly. "Are you feeling alright?"

The agent scowled and fought from punching the ginger in the face. "I'm serious, Clemson what the hell did you do to me." He snapped.

The girl latched onto Clemson's arm, pressing against him. "Clemmy didn't do anything to anybody!" She protested, eyes still wide. "He couldn't have!"

Skipper narrowed his eyes, the girl was the same one from the club last night. Casey or Something. She had been one of his final, not sketchy nor missing, memories. Last thing he knew he was flat on his back with someone on top of him and then it just went burry, all he could remember was bliss.

Something had happened and judging by the vague image he had managed to build up he knew that Clemson was involved.

And it wasn't a good involvement either.

He almost went bright red with both outrage and embarrassment at the thought of what the clues pointed to.

It didn't take a hell of a lot to work out Clemson didn't give a second care to who he slept with. And from what his tampered mind, and marked body was telling him apparently he didn't either.

And Holy mother of Mary he had a raging Hangover.

All in all this wasn't the best start to his day, and it seemed like it wasn't going to get any better.

"What happened last night… Well lets see. You got drunk. I took you home. The end." Clemson sighed, and as if he wasn't bothering to focus he was running his fingers up the side of the girls bare arm, causing her to cling to him further.

Skipper narrowed his eyes and lent even closer. "I believe up until 'the end.'" He growled.

The con-artist eyes grew wide.

_**Honestly that never happened;  
>lying is your favourite passion.<strong>_

Clemson looked like he was choking on something as he managed to splutter out. "You think… Skipper, Seriously?" He gasped.

"think what?" The girl asked, batting her lashes ineffectively at the villain.

The ginger pressed his hand against his fore-head and groaned slightly. "Oh Skipper… No. No, Honestly that never happened."

Skipper snapped and pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing the bright blood bruise on his neck. "Explain that." He demanded viciously.

"Ok." Clemson started, keeping a mildly soothing tone, like he was speaking to a pre-schooler. "you were Dancing. A lot. No Doubt some random person thought you looked tasty and decided to put their theory in action." He shrugged. "I'm not to blame for that."

The team leader growled. "You're lying to me."

Clemson shrugged. "Show me your proof, go on."

The girl pressed herself tighter against the ginger and buried her head in his neck. "Clemmy has an…" She started, voice childish as she dropped off, voice laden with confusion.

"alibi?" Clemson offered, chucking the girl under her chin.

"Yeah! He was with me the whole night." She finished, looking pointedly at skipper. "You have a nice apartment by the way." She giggled, like it was an afterthought.

This threw the Team-leader off. She had never been to his teams apartment. How would she know? He froze as he attempted bury the new-found information amid the chaos of his own pounding thoughts in a way that made it fit. But it just wouldn't go.

_**Leave me,  
>go where you belong.<br>Higher heels and lipstick napkins,  
>dying is your latest fashion.<strong>_

Clemson waved a hand, almost like he was bored as he picked up his coffee cup and took a long sip, placing it back down next to the napkin it had come with, the corner filled with a lipstick kiss mark and black pen ink reading – _call me! 846 974 3376!_

"Skipper I suggest you go back home and rest, your mind is obviously not in the right place right now, and sleep is what you need. Plus I have to take Kelsey to the central park zoo. I promised." He stood up and pushed his chair in soundlessly, the tail ends of his blue and yellow scarf swaying as he did. Then he turned back and met the team leaders angry and confused gaze evenly speaking slowly and clearly the next few words, the sentence rolling off his tongue in an almost husky tone.

"You and I both know I always keep my promises, don't we?" He asked, winking sharply before twining his hand with the girl teetering along in her high-heels and swept out of the small café whispering to her.

Skipper only stood there, a faint trail of numbness tingling in his finger-tips as he recalled a few words.

"_Don't worry, I'll be gone when the morning comes…" _

"Dear. God." He whispered.

_**The frustration,  
>it's a regular thing.<br>I hate the ones who love to hate because they're just like me.**_

Once again Skipper was slouched at the bar. This time of however, it was of his own accord. He lent even harder on the slightly sticky brown wood, elbows gripping with ease and raw knuckles sticking slightly as he rested his temples between them.

He grimaced ever so slightly, rubbing them up and down slightly as if attempting to lessen the pain. Apparently venting you're frustration did not go well with un-protected hands, especially when you vented your frustration by pounding into a punching bag like you have a personal vendetta against it.

Lesson learned.

It would have been worth it had it worked, but it had only really half-done it's job. After burning off the original anger he had been left with a horrible feeling of anguish and self-hatred. Had he really leapt that far to a conclusion? Had he been that desperate?

Drinking was apparently supposed to help. At least that's what he had assumed; so far it didn't seem to be doing well either, the edges slightly fuzzy but the stark lines that had been drawn only intensified. He sighed, letting his head fall even further towards his bottle.

That was when he felt a light touch run in a half spiral up from his elbow to his wrist, hearing the playful but condescending tone as Clemson stated softly. "Well I certainly didn't expect to see you back here so soon!"

_**A certain girl she took her hand and put it in my lap,  
>it's way to full she said.<br>Once you've had me you'll always come back.**_

Skipper instantly jerked his arm away, glaring up at the villain as he stood leaning against the bar, neck titled so the light could catch the dark patches of skin dotting his throat. There was a clear air of innocence in his burning eyes, a smirk coiling at the corner of his lips.

"I can't say I wanted too." He shot back, eyes involuntarily fluttering from his eyes to the blood-bruises on his neck.

Clemson's eyes flickered and he ran a hand over his neck, fingers hesitating on the bruised skin as he chuckled. "Yeah, I have a fair few as well." He smiled, pulling up a bar stool, amused by the team leaders almost disgusted look.

It was then the music suddenly screeched, spiking up weirdly and scraping across skippers eardrums forcing him to turn sharply in his chair. It cut of just as sharply as it had started and he was met only by the sight of disgruntled dancers and a blushing DJ as the girl attempted to get the music working again.

He turned slowly back to his bottle and lifted it up to him lips and swallowed it back, drinking deeply. A faintly pleasurable taste washed over his tongue. He pulled back and blinked at the bottle before he shrugged and ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, the taste almost gone completely. He tilted it back again, surprised as he realized the liquid was all gone.

Clemson had a faintly impressed look on his face. "Woah, I had no Idea you wanted that much to forget my existence."

Skipper shook his head sharply. "Cut the smart talk." He snapped, attempting to turn to face him totally only to jerk back as he realized the con-artist was only an inch from his face.

He reached out and rested his hand against his cheek and chuckled menacingly. "Can't say I blame you for coming back however."

It was then, as the other males mind was still blank he lent in and pressed his lips fiercely against Skippers.

_**She can't behave. **_

Skipper instantly threw his arms up to smack the con-artist senseless, only to feel them being snatched at in mid-air and forced down behind him. He let out a panicked and confused noise, this was not normal. Clemson wasn't a strong guy, he didn't use violence to get things, and he shouldn't be stronger than a trained officer even if he did! Struggling he attempted to rip his lips from the gingers luring and heated pair.

A low growling noise vibrated the back of Clemson's throat as without warning the villain swung his arms right over his head and forced his back onto the bar, pinning his wrists down forcefully and pulled away, eyes burning with an undisguised shot of lust.

Not that he could really focus on it, the lights above him starting to ache and burn his eyes.

_**And I'm just a slave. **_

"Seriously? Again? I must be getting away with murder." Clemson hissed, the sound battering his ears, eyes screwed shut as the uncomfortable pressure mounted on the back of his eyes.

"What did you do." He groaned, voice echoingly clear, now daring to let his eyes slit open slightly.

Clemson smirked viciously. "I drugged you. What else?" He crooned, leaning down on top of him and letting his lips brush against Skippers with every word he spoke. "Because, hah, I lied when I said you didn't sleep with me last night. You did, and I'll tell you something now Skippy, you weren't exactly complaining."

"Bastard." He hissed.

_**Don't worry I'll be gone when the morning comes.**_

"You're tune will change in just a moment." He mocked. "And the absolutely beautiful thing?"

He lent back slightly, eyes fluttering with violent clashes of emotion as he stated. "In the morning you won't even remember this conversation. So I can do it again."

But by this time skipper didn't even know who he was talking to anymore.

_**Darling,  
>what is going on?<strong>_

"Kowalski."

The scientist jumped to attention, handily dropping a large stack of papers as he did. Sighing at the ground and rubbing his forehead he mumbled. "Yes Skipper."

The Team leader walked into the scientists lab and swung out a chair, leaning on the back of it as he stated loudly. "I need you to test a sample of my blood."

This caused the scientist to freeze, hands stopping as he jerked his gaze upwards, eye-brows quirked incredulously as he slowly spoke. "You want me, to stick a needle in you and run a diagnostic on your DNA?"

Skipper nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's what I want."

"Let me rephrase that. You want me to stick you, With a _needle_." He stressed, throwing his arms down. "Skipper you hate needles!"

The team leader let his expression fall. "No Medal for pointing out the obvious Kowalski." He rebuffed.

The scientist groaned and slammed his head into his hand. "So you have sold me many times. But what I am trying to ask is _why _if you hate needles so much make me take a sample and test it?"

Skipper looked away, letting a simple 'classified soldier' roll off his tongue.

There really was no point in telling Kowalski about the fragmented memories and strange assurance that he was sure Clemson had been laying straight aces the day before, or about his encounter with the con-artist last night. While he had failed to track the night as it progressed to him waking up alone this morning with a wickedly throbbing skull, he had been able to hold on to one word.

Drugged.

_**Honestly that never happened;  
>lying is your favourite passion.<strong>_

Skipper squirmed and yelped occasionally, eyes not leaving the tiny silver blade imbedded deep in his skin, slowly being filled with a sluggish red liquid.

Kowalski was watching him blankly. "You have enough numbing cream on that area to knock out a baby hippo. You shouldn't be able to feel it Skipper."

"I can't!" He yapped, still shifting anxiously about. "But I can still see it!"

"For the love of – Then look away!" He snapped angrily, now yanking the needle harshly from his skin and slapping a plaster over the area with a little more force that necessary. Grumbling under his breath the scientist turned to a small but complex looking device as he emptied the contents of the syringe into a small cylindrical pipe at the top of the machine. "What exactly am I looking for Skipper?" he finally queried as the small screen flashed blue.

Poking the numb area of skin the leader looked up. "Anything that shouldn't be there."

Kowalski rolled his pale eyes. "Can you be any more, I don't know, Specific?"

Skipper stood up and met the taller males gaze sharply. "Narcotics." He stated finally, turning away as the Scientists face became a mask of shock and horror. __

_**Leave me,  
>go where you belong.<strong>_

Rico was sitting on the ground, lovingly stroking the pile of ginger and white fur in his lap as it purred pleasantly. The cat arched its neck as he scratched the underside of its ear, eyes closed as her flanks rose and fell.

Skipper still sat on the couch pretending to be watching project runway with private as instead his mind drifted back towards the lab. What the heck was Kowalski going to find, if he found anything at all!

Had the villain really drugged him or had it all been a crazy drunken scenario his brain had been stringing him along to. He suppressed a shudder. Really he couldn't pick witch was worse.

It was then a loud crashing sound erupted as Kowalski shot from the hallway like a rabbit with its tail on fire, fist clenched around a sheet of plain computer paper with a series of highlighted code on it and a triumphant smile.

"Skipper! I got it! I know what was in your blood! It was a drug!" He shouted, almost as if he was excited by this fact.

Rico had stopped stroking his cat for a moment and had one eye narrowed in confusion_**. **_"ay- wah?" He stated, letting his eyes follow a path between the scientist and his commanding officer.

Mrs Perky's neck fur was bristling, green eyes silted with 'black pools of pure evil.' As Kowalski would describe it, but today the cat scratching his face off didn't seem to be one of his major worries as he completely ignored the agitated feline. "it was a relatively simple drug witch-"

Skipper cut him off. "I don't need to know what it does Kowalski, what I need is a preventative."

The scientist let his head tilt to the side slightly. "Like a preventer inhaler for asthma?" He asked.

Skipper nodded his head sharply. "Exactly like that." He paused. "Can you do it?"

"Upside-down, in my sleep and with twenty Mrs. Perkys attacking my face." He stated confidently.

_**Higher heels and lipstick napkins,  
>dying is your latest fashion.<strong>_

_**I know you love to assist,  
>and all it takes is a kiss,<br>and you just love to hate me.**_

When you go fishing for sharks you never go to them.

You wait for them to come to you.

The cherry and almost musical voice sounded loudly against his ears, a pair of hands handing on his shoulders. "Skipper? Again?" Clemson laughed. "I think I may have to sign you up for alcoholics anonymous at this rate."

Skipper smirked. "Says the one I always run into here. Perhaps I should buy you the book on the 12 steps to recovering from an addiction?" He asked, letting his gaze follow the ginger as he slipped into the nearest bar-stool, crossing his legs and knotting his hands together on his knee.

"But when I get to the top you're just going to knock me back down again aren't you?" He fired back, eyes glinting sharply.

"Perhaps." Skipper stated finally, watching him out of the corner of his eyes as he gestured the bar attendant over.

All in all it really wasn't fair. It was like pitting a garden snake against a python in a mouse suit. The smaller predator may think it's the hunter, when in fact in a matter of a few seconds the tables could tilt and crush them under its weight.

But maybe it was for the best. After all what was the better way to stir up a serving of revenge then though the very deception that caused the need for it in the first place?

The pair of drinks slid across the counter towards the pair and Clemson let his eyes narrow fractionally. "Skipper, care to explain?" He asked.

The team leader placed a look of confused anguish on his face. "In all honesty? I don't know it's just… I've got the weirdest feeling that I should trust you. And I trust my gut so…" He paused before lifting the glass to his lips and stating, "Cheers" before drinking back a mouth-full.

The con Artist smiled like the Cheshire cat of wonder-land. Behind his back Skipper held onto the empty container the small pill had come in as he crumpled it up and let it fall absently to the floor.

Yep. He'd just caught a shark. Hook, line and sinker._****_

_**You know you love all the lies,  
>so don't act surprised,<br>that I just love to hate you.**_

It didn't take a lot to act like the drug was working, Kowalski had been pretty clear in explaining what it did and when depending on the dosage so Skipper had played it by ear, waiting for a question about his eyes before tossing the time-line into motion. Less than 5 minutes he was pressed against a wall with his bottom lip clamped between the gingers teeth.

It took all of his strength to not shove the villain away, knowing that the victory would be all the more sweet when he was sure he had landed the kill. Until then he had to live with the admittedly fantastic assault on his lips and mouth.

_**I kissed your lips,**_

Skipper stood slumped against the wall whimpering and whining as Clemson started to jiggle the key in the lock while he chuckled. Internally he had to hope that Kowalski, Rico and Private had actually attempted the assignment he had left, otherwise he was well and truly screwed.

The door swung open.

The lights were off and as they were flicked on the familiar scrawl of Kowalski's writing was plastered over the white-board on the far end of the room.

Be barely caught the words 'Assignment' and '11 o'clock' before Clemson dragged him back towards him, drowning him in harsh and needing kisses._****_

_**you pulled my hair,**_

The slender hands skated up his back and neck, tangling and knotting into his hair, pulling him down and combing through the black strands._****_

_**it was the craziest thing.**_

Skipper had known his life was crazy for a while, but never once had he imagined himself whimpering like a lost puppy as a mortal enemy kissed him senseless in his living room.

And perhaps that was for the best._****_

_**I love the girls who love to hate,**_

the commanding lips left his own and drifted down to his neck, laying lavish kisses as they pleased against the sensitive skin, nipping and biting as well.

"Clem…" He droned.

"mm?" Was the only response._****_

_**Whoo Ahhh Whooo Ahhh Whoo ahhh Whooo WOAH!**_

Skipper let his stupid and innocent sheet fall, body sharpening from the mess he had let it flow into, eyes snapping open and breathing regulating.

The con-artist lent backwards, a high level of confusion in his eyes. "what the-"

With his teeth ground together the team-leader lashed out, palm smashing against the villains face.

_**Darling,  
>what is going on?<br>Honestly that never happened;  
>lying is your favourite passion.<strong>_

He took a step forward as the ginger cried out, staggering to the ground and kneeling there, nursing his cheek with one hand .

Skipper smirked, ready to lash out with a kick when two words distracted him.

Clemson was looking upwards, eyes dark with respect and defiance, one side of his face a steadily growing red as he laughed. "Well played."

Skipper narrowed his eyes, grinding his teeth together as the smirk fell from his face. Slowly, but steadily the con-artist rose from the ground, moving his jaw about and looking thoughtfully off to the side as if he was trying to decide whether it was broken or not. Seemingly pleased with what he realised the focus switched back to the team-leader a mocking grin on his face.

"I mean that. It was really nicely executed Skipper. Make me think that I've done it again, only to turn and shove it back in my face?" he laughed. "It was brilliant. You even went to the trouble of getting your team out of the apartment. Do they not know your gay?"

He swiftly side-stepped the violent blow, eye's sparkling with interest. "Oh? So they don't?" He stated.

Skipper balled his hands into fists and snarled. "So what?"

_**Leave me,  
>go where you belong.<br>Higher heels and lipstick napkins,  
>dying is your latest fashion.<strong>_

The villain shrugged his shoulders ineffectually, like he really couldn't be bothered doing anything else. "Nothing. I have no reason of outing you to them. I mean, really what good does that do me?" His uncaring look suddenly twisted into a dark leer. "They didn't know and I got what I wanted."

Again he dodged the blow, swerving backwards to avoid the powerful hook, laughing as he did so. "Hit a raw nerve there skippy?"

"Shut up." He growled viciously.

Clemson seemed to miss the threat. "The thing is Skipper, while you may not remember it. Your body will. One day it's just going to drive you over the edge." He took a step forward until he was only half and inch from the shorter male. "And that will be the day you'll come find me." He purred.

Skipper swung out a leg and knocked the villain to the ground again, standing with tensed muscled over the groaning form as he picked himself up off the floor again. "I said, Shut up." He snarled.

_**Darling,  
>what is going on?<br>Honestly that never happened;  
>lying is your favourite passion.<strong>_

Clemson looked up, a defiant fire in his blazing blue eyes. "Or what?" He demanded. "Are you going to beat me up? Hurt me? Turn me in?"

Skipper held his gaze for a moment, two different shades of blue clashing against one another. And then he looked away, body quivering as he growled. "Just, get out."

_**Leave me,  
>go where you belong.<br>Higher heels and lipstick napkins,  
>dying is your latest fashion.<strong>_

The ginger smiled faintly standing up and sweeping towards the door, seemingly without the faintest intention of looking back.

Then he stopped, hand hovering only a hairs-breadth from the door handle. Slowly it coiled around the polished metal and applied just the faintest amount of pressure.

"I just thought it would be fair to warn you to tell Kowalski to watch his drinks."

And with that he was gone.

**Lol. Can I get away with that? XD**

**Cipper. Seriously? I recommend you all try some. It's creepily fun to write.**

**And I just realized this is 16 pages long on word. Holy Firetruck. O.O**

**Meh. Thankies for all the lovely reviews! It's really cool knowing people are reading these and enjoying them too! X)**

_**UUUUUUUUUUUUP NEXT: cyber-punk skans to a song called the guillotine! Futuristic battle against machines that want to kill us all? Good times!  
>then… possibly someone's story? Maybe some ClemsonXSavio? I donno ;P <strong>_

**Bye you awesome Person of the world! I LUFFS YOU SO MUCHIES! XD**


	12. Chapter 12

**So I got the request. Then heard a song.  
>IT. JUST. FIT.<br>then I tried to write it and was just like  
>… Oh. <strong>

**So yeah. Cyber-punk Skans. I actually turned to a really good book I recently read for the idea so you know. If you know the book, good job! :D**

**I hope you like it CrazeTheWaffleCat! I actually love what you suggested… SO MUCH XD**

**Ahem… *CoughsorrythisissolateCough* Uh, lol? Anybody hear anything? ^-^'**

Skipper let his eyes snap open instantly, the slight ping sounding from his interface ring enough to stir him from his slumber. _'Crap! The ring!' _He quickly twisted it from his finger and pressed it onto the dresser, before leaning over and fishing the small heater out from under his bed and quickly stuffing it in and twisting the dial. At the rate this was going he was going to be late.

Quickly he bounced from the bed, pausing only to scrape up his heavy jacket and force it up over his shoulders as he moved over to the window. The Air was warm and the fresh breeze tickled his face as it moved past. He whistled shrilly into the dawn sky, not worried about waking up anybody up at this hour. Most were probably hungover or still partying, but at 5 am he doubted it. One thing about New Pretty town, nobody was ever out of bed before 3 in the after-noon or in bed before 4 at night., Unless you were bubbly as hell of course. A small grin Flicked up over his lips as he caught sight of the hover-board drifting up towards him like a loyal dog, banking just under the window as he swung his legs out and balanced his weight across it, the magnets keeping it floating bobbing for a moment as it gave slightly under his added weight. Less than a minute later he was whirring past the other 14th floor windows towards the roof, keeping his head down and urging his board to climb faster.

"Would you look who it is? What's shaking Skipper?" The Pretty who had spoken was leaning over the side of the building, wide yellow-blue eyes dancing on the perfectly symmetrical face, full lips pulled into a knowing smirk. "Sneaking out again? What the hell are we going to do with you man?" He mocked, leaning over with a hand to guide the now upwards set hover-board over the roof edge.

"Look who's talking!" Skipper snorted, pulling to a stop and stepping off the floating board. "New eye surgery?" He asked, leaning in to closer inspect the flashing blue and yellow eyes.

"Yup!" He smiled, white teeth pulled back into a wicked grin. "Cool huh? But It isn't as cool as those Flash tattoos they're coming out with."

Skipper rolled his eyes. "Trust you too want a tattoo Rico."

"It's not as weird as Kowalski dying his hair blue with biro ink!" He protested, running a hand through his messy light brown hair. "Trying to make a statement? I'll never get it."

"It's not a 'Statement' I've got nothing to prove! It's a good way of staying bubbly though, I'll give you that much!" The voice came from the other side of the roof as another boy bounded over towards them, this blue hair being buffered by the wind as he approached.

Rico tipped his head to the side, craning his neck ever so slightly upwards towards the marginally taller pretty. "Oh yeah? Reckon I should try it?"

Kowalski's taller than average height had been a test on behalf of the pretty committee who were interested in seeing how standards could be changed if they were to make the usual pretty height taller. Eventually they decided it wasn't worth the hassle and tried to get the fractionally higher pretty back in to surgery so he would look the same as everyone else again, only to have him evade them every time. This coupled with his pale skin from avoiding sun-light and blue hair made Kowalski by far one of the weirdest looking Pretties Skipper had seen in a long time.

The pale blue eyes flashed. "Don't you…" He died off, eyes narrowing. "Smart ass." He laughed.

Rico smirked, turning back to skipper. "Statement. I said it once and I'll say it again. The boy's making a statement."

Kowalski rolled his eyes and turned to Skipper. "The board good? I was worried by hacking the-"

He waved a hand. "Don't bore me with the technical stuff, It handles like a dream and if I can get from here to anywhere without it alerting the wardens than its bloody perfect."

Kowalski had always been the smartest of the three, even back as Uglies he'd paid the most attention to lessons and often looked things up in his own time on the wall screen back in the dorm. Kowalski had looked like a spider back then, much too tall and far too skinny with a face shaped like a chilli pepper. Rico hadn't been much better with his missing vocal chords and hook like nose, he could have been a silent pirate. But that's what the operation at 16 fixed, all the little deformities that made you different, and they ground down your bones, fixed new muscle tissue to them and made you symmetrical. They grew you flawless new skin and made you immune to nearly everything they could think off.

But it also made you as dumb as a bag of hammers.

Under the full lips and wide innocent eyes nearly every Pretty was as bubble-headed as the next. They didn't focus, had no motivation and said stupid things like '_happy-making'_ or_ 'buzz-wrecking' _witch ground Skipper's nerves to the point of wanting to strangle them.

But he couldn't. Because he was a good little pretty who was as dumb as they came, and pretties didn't argue or hurt each other. Kowalski and Rico were also good little pretties and when private turned 16 in a few months he'd be a lovely pretty as well… well at least after the three of them broke him and made him remember who he was.

The door burst open and the three of them turned suddenly to the roof door, witch was usually concealed, as a pair of doe eyed girl pretties poked their heads up through the hole.

"Oh hello Skipper-la, Kowalski-la and Rico-la!" The first giggled. "I'm looking for a totally bubbly party. Do you know where one is?" She asked.

The second gasped. "You know the blue-haired guy?!"

Kowalski smirked, eyes flashing slightly. "What? Don't you think it's pretty-making?" He asked, looking comically disappointed as he faked the usual reaction to what something like that would do to a new pretty.

The girl gasped. "No! It's totally pretty-making! Totally bubbly!"

"Marley-wa I think there's like a massive party raging up at the party towers! You should go, I heard it was absolutely dizzy-making!" Rico chipped in, smiling broadly.

The brunette pretty cheered. "Thanks a zillion Rico-la! By the way I love the new eye surge!"

After numerous exaggerated good-byes the door slammed shut and Kowalski smacked his fore-head into his palm. "Oh god. This will be the death of me."

Skipper snorted, unable to do anything but agree. "They were wearing their interface rings, so by now the wardens know they were on the roof, we have to go before they get here and realize we aren't wearing our interface rings and our hover-boards are rigged."

Rico nodded sharply. "That would land us in some serious-" he broke off as he turned, already wide pretty eyes getting wider as he froze. His face was cast in a shadow Skipper could have sworn wasn't there before, and as he too turned to see what had freaked him out so much suddenly realized why.

There was another pretty on the roof.

But this one was just… _wrong._

The angles on his face, which were designed by biology and the pretty committee to say 'I'm innocent and want you to protect me' were too sharp, almost wolf like. His eyes were dark, too dark for normal standards and he was too tall as well. But by far the worst thing was the sharp teeth that protruded from his gums, lining up nicely as he smirked.

"Land you in some serious… what?" He asked, voice low and threatening.

Rico blinked twice. "Serious sadness-making times." He pouted. "We're the roof-top clique so we have to be on the roof. I really like your surge! It's so-" He broke off when in a moment the cruel looking pretty was in front of him and holding his arms out.

Skipper and Kowalski both took multiple steps backwards when without warning their friends eyes rolled back and he collapsed into the waiting arms of the cruel-pretty. "Don't stress your little bubble-headed brains, he's not dead."

That's when it struck Skipper with the force of a speeding hover-car. _'I know you.'_ He thought, narrowing his eyes at the strangely familiar pretty. _'But how and why?'_

A shocked gasp left the resident Genius. Skipper turned to him as his eyes danced with questions and their answers. "I thought they were all myths!" He exclaimed breathlessly. "Tales told to keep Uglies in line-"

"Actually our main job is to keep the pretties stupid." The new comer corrected, throwing and arm out and catching the back of Kowalski's neck on something. The blue-haired pretty growled, and his hand moved to cover the thin line of blood on the back of his neck. It didn't quite make it before he too succumbed to unconsciousness.

Skipper rattled his brain, the nervous energy sparking from every inch of his body as the cruel-pretty carefully adjusted the ring on his finger, seemingly not caring that he was still standing there.

Memories, examples of everyone he could ever remember meeting, speaking too or even glimpsing out of the corners of his eyes all blurred together as he shuffled recklessly through them searching for anyone he'd met with the same unnatural beauty as this person before him.

"Come on Skipper, I'm insulted. It shouldn't take you this long to recognize me." He pouted, but it sat wrong on his hard face. He started walking towards him, legs taking slow calculated strides. Skipper took a large step back, ready to sprint away only to have his arms grabbed in a tight hold, sharp nails digging crescent moons into his flawless pretty skin.

The mocking tone was gone, the cruel-pretties eyes flashing as he lent forward, murmuring. "Look into my eyes."

Skipper swallowed, fighting the ever-present urge to swing out or try conjure up some way to escape the vice grip on his arms. He glared, mouth flattened into a firm line, into the new-comers eyes. The iris and pupil seemed to be one, linked in absolute black, as if the strands of muscle were never there. _'Why do I know you? Where have I encountered you before?!' _The thoughts raced as his eyes narrowed, desperately searching for whatever the other wanted him to find.

As he stared the twin shades of black seemed to diverge, the pupils almost growing darker in comparison to the ever lightening black around them. But it wasn't black, it was brown. A very dark shadow of brown, yet still a warm brown, the dark rust coloured eyes reminding him of the rusty ruins at night.

It was then he realised, body tightning ever so slightly. "Hans?"

The smile kicked up a few watts, sharp teeth ever more prominent. "Nice to see you too Skipper old chum."

_He Kept his feet balanced and steady eyes narrowed against the harsh wind, internally wishing he'd left his goggles on, but externally laughing and whooping so loud that no one would have noticed. A sharp bend appeared in the moonlight and he swerved expertly. Relying on the hover-boards magnets to keep them on track he pushed the nose down slightly, Hearing the whirring magnets jerk up in pitch as he urged it faster. Behind him he could almost feel the breath down the back of his neck as the track started to slope upwards._

_Excitement coiled in his stomach, eyes stinging as his hands quivered. The dangers of falling were minimalized by the crash-bracelets, but knowing the dammed things his arms would be ripped right out of their sockets. He could see the rise looming ever closer as sweat started to prickle at his brow. His breaths came in heavy gasps, adrenaline soaring as he board cleared the top of the track._

_Then was the falling. The board hung gracefully in the air, arcing its way downwards as he let out a joyous yell. The world seemed weightless as he span through the darkness, body numb save for the tremors of excitement fluttering up and down his spine._

_All too soon it was over, the boards magnets snapping back in as he slowed his board down the other slope, breath quick and frantic but a goofy smile still splayed over his face. Within the next ten seconds another drew up beside him._

_The boy had shaggy black hair, and a nose and mouth that were too wide, but his warm chestnut eyes seemed to almost balance it out, glinting brightly out amid the darkness of the ruins. "Nice ride!" He commented, stepping lightly off his board. _

"_Hell yeah!" He cheered brightly, reaching out for a high five as he drifted along beside him for a moment, turning idly around in circles as the other ugly casually walked over to sit on a near-by rock, leaving his hover-board bobbing idly in the air. A quietness descended on them, but neither really seemed to mind too much._

"_Do you ever get worried?"_

_Skipper stopped, turning with a quick adjustment of his balance to face him. "Well yeah, Getting caught is a real problem and I-"_

"_Not about that!" He interrupted, getting up and dragging Skipper by the hand back to sit next to him. "I mean about… You know, you and me?"_

_He stopped, tipping his head to the side with a faint wash of confusion dusting his gaze. What did he mean by that? Watching him trying to read the incredulous stare like the wall-screen back at the dorm the boy started to expand. "You know how Kowalski's saying that the operation changes your brain as well as how you look?"_

_The other nodded slowly. Ever since Kowalski's parents, a pair of middle-pretties working as surgeons for the operations, had died under mysterious circumstances, all he had been thinking about was the message they had somehow been able to send to him. Naturally he'd erased it instantly after reading it, because if what his parents had been saying was true then he could have possibly met their fate simply by knowing. _

"_you mean about pretties being bubble-heads? Yeah, Of course I do."_

"_what if…" He swallowed, looking down at the hand that was still between his own. "What if they really change us?"_

_An annoyed groan escaped him. "That's the whole idea of the operati-"_

"_Not like that! I mean, the whole Idea behind it is to make sure that everyone is the same right? Well… we're so different to everyone else and I really don't want to lose that."_

_Skipper felt his eyes soften. "They won't. I mean… why would they?"_

_He shrugged. "I don't know… but I don't want to risk it."_

"_what?"_

"_Are you up for the biggest trick ever?" He urged, eyes gleaming brightly hand clutching his tightly._

_Skipper frowned. "What do you mean?"_

"_I mean not getting the operation!"_

_A silence fell on them, smothering the pair like a blanket. A loud laugh echoed out, breaking the eerie hold. "You're kidding me right? You can't just not get the operation, its compulsory!"_

_There was a tense, almost fearful note in his voice the next time he spoke. "That's why we leave."_

"_Leave?" He asked, mildly confused. Then it snapped into place and he recoiled in horror. "Leave the city?! Are you crazy?"_

_He shrugged. "Perhaps! But I'm not having my brain be flung out the window because of some stupid tradition!"_

"_Kowalski thinks he's worked out a way for it not to change you!" _

_He groaned. "Yes. And because he's the oldest you have one chance and if it doesn't work then you're stuffed aren't you? I don't want to risk it!"_

_He could only watch as he stood, snapping his fingers to call his hover-board over and swinging a back-pack over his shoulders. It just now made sense why he had brought it in the first place._

"_Well that's a real shame." He snapped. He couldn't be serious, he just couldn't be! "The wardens will stop you anyway!"_

"_The wardens can't do shit!" He retaliated. The bitter remark was like a whip-lash against his skin, but as he glared up the disappointed look on him face said enough._

_He stood, walking quickly over and grabbed the front of his shirt, fingers digging into the material. His mouth pressed tightly against the others, all the desperation and pleading he ever could have uttered sealed tightly between his desperate lips. When they broke faint gasps echoed into the air, barely filling the quiet that had moved in._

"_I love you."_

"_Don't go."_

"_Then come with me."_

"_Good luck Hans."_

And he'd left, Hover board zipping into the brush along the natural strains of iron running through the land. Now, three years later there stood the fifteen year old he had once knew, but for some reason he knew that there was more that had changed about him than just his appearance. Something was just off, and it was more than his face shape and eye colour. It was his whole stance, the poised intensity of his shoulders and the dark expression ever so slowly sleeping onto his face with every spare second that passed between them.

Finally his voice broke and actual words passed out from between his open jaw. "What happened to you?" He breathed, feeling his posture sinking slightly as he tried to wriggle away from the vice like grip on his arms.

Hans only grinned still, a mirthless chuckle escaping his throat as he finally let go of his arms. "They caught me dumbass." He stated calmly.

The words passed right by him without him even trying to decipher what it meant. "What do you mea-"

An irritated growl cut him off and he snapped his lips together sharply as Hans's eyes took a sharp veer into venomous territory. "And To think they call _you _a menace. They caught me, the wardens, three years and they finally caught me. But guess what?" He paused to laugh, a cackle that lacked all warmth and joy, mocking him ruthlessly. "Never mind, it would take you forever to get it with your limited mental capacity." He bent over and with a syrupy voice crooned. "Ever heard of a thing called 'Special Circumstances?'"

Skipper did step away that time, suddenly feeling the same blunt force impact of realization Kowalski must have suffered as his eyes widened impossibly. "No… They didn't."

He smiled knowingly as his voice died in his throat. "But they did." He stated quietly. "And look at me now."

It took all he had to not bolt right then. Hans, the very same person he been in love with, no scratch that, _was _in love with was standing before him as something so much worse than a bubble-head or an ugly.

He was a biologically enhanced special. A puppet for the very same government had had helped annoy endlessly for the better half of fifteen years.

A bitter laugh was let out and skipper gasped in pain as he felt his skin bruise under the rough and sudden grip on his jaw bones as his head was yanked forward. "Look at that face." Hans mocked. "That empty, over-used face. But that expression is absolutely priceless!"

"Let me go." He hissed, struggling vainly only to cry out as his nails sank into the butter soft skin as well.

"You know what? I am so happy now. Oh so happy with who I am and what I can do and the only thing ruining it is _you._" Hans spat, tossing his arm lazily to the side.

But what was lazy to him was violent and forceful to skipper as he felt his body get slammed into the tarmac on the roof, skin grazing in his exposed areas. He went to get up, forcing his bloodied palms against the ground only to be slammed back down viciously by a boot in his back. "Even though you repulse me more then you could possibly comprehend, part of me, some stupid part, still loves you despite it."

Right then he wished he could just block him out, but it seemed next to impossible as the next words grazed his ears. "Because I know what that mind is capable of."

A prick was all it took, one tiny jab of a needle and he fell under, his entire body relaxing into a catacomb state as Hans twiddled his ring again, rolling him over onto his back. His eyelids were shut, sending his black lashes splaying over his skin and lips parted ever so slightly.

And it sickened Hans to the core. The blood on his skin was proof of how weak and simple minded he was. It was the very definition of a pathetic display. But the only thing more pathetic was how much he still felt for him, even then.

"It's fine through." He stated softly, standing upright and flicking gravel off his pants absently. "Because black was always a much prettier colour for your eyes."

And with that he turned and walked off, motioning only once for the other three specials to jump across from the nearby building and gather the three pretties.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The middle pretty never once looked up from his sheet of paper and He couldn't help but grimace. The skin was far too soft, eye-sight a pitiful smear on what his could do, and bones so fragile. He could have leaned over and snapped his neck right there. He wouldn't have seen it coming, dying in the half of a second it would take him to do the act its self.

But he didn't, because as useless as the pretty was to him, he was useful to some people for some odd reason. So he substituted the mindless violence for idly kicking his feet against the metal of the bed he was sitting on. His skintenna was going crazy with the muted whispers of the other specials from wherever it was they were standing around the sprawled out building witch had the over powering scent of sodium hypochlorite hanging in every corner.

With a final drawing of blood he was free, and slid off the bed and stretched luxuriously, feeling the bones in his shoulders bend slightly to the action before leaving. He walked quickly, keeping a strict pace as he worked his way through the building with a sharp efficiency. He kept track of the corners and passages on the map he could see displayed over his eyes, partially blocking his view. He had no idea what those things were called, but whatever it was it was fantastic.

Rounding the final corner he spotted him immediately, Standing with what would have appeared to be boredom in a corner. But he could see the tenseness in his muscles and almost feel the alertness it represented. And it was that alertness that let him know that he knew that he was here.

Grinning he wasted no time, walking quickly over. The others head twitched mere millimetres towards his approach, one eyebrow cocking its self on his forehead. He reached out and wound his hands around the collar of his shirt and dragged his towards him, forcing their lips together in a vicious kiss.

When he pulled away he could taste the bitter tang of blood on his tongue from where it had been sliced open on either one of their sharpened teeth. The pain was dulling away as the world zoomed up into an icy clarity.

The other reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down his cheek idly, head tipping curiously to the side.

"I knew black would suit you." Hans stated quietly.

Skipper wiped his blood away from the others lip. "You weren't wrong."

_**Mwhahahahahahahaha!**_

… _**Yeah, the book series was uglies, pretties, specials and extras. Good books :P  
>Also I'm really sorry for disappearing for ages, but I've gotten real heavily into my drawing and I'm still trying to find a balance between that and writing. :**_

_**I might not update this for a while because I have something I REALLY want to write… so if you like Pewdiepie keep an eye out :) **_


	13. Chapter 13

Ok. Holidays. TIME TO ACTUALLY DO SOME WRITING.

Requests? GONNA DO EM.

Starting with some blowhole and skipper.

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><p>The earth rotates at one thousand six hundred and seventy kilometres per hour.<p>

But in this moment he was sure it must have frozen in place, everything else had.

A wide sea green eye stared up at the cold metal, not flinching from the muzzle of the gun centimetres away from pressing against the space between his eyes. One a glinting red piece of machinery embedded into the metal wrapping around part of his skull, the other living tissue and muscle. His chest was still and his hands froze at his sides, body going from sunlight over water to solid stone in a heartbeat. Even the blood pooling down the side of his face had frozen on its journey.

Skipper knew he must look similar, it felt like his heart had stopped pounding and was now sitting quietly in his chest, waiting for something, _anything, _to happen. But he didn't even know what it was he was waiting for at this point. The gun was in his hand, the safety was off and his finger was pressing down slightly on the trigger.

The ball was metaphorically in his court now.

It was everything he had been dreaming about for years now, planning quietly as he lay awake at night feeling the rage coil beneath his skin. Lying in the dark he would feel the cool metal of the gun in his palm as it was held level with the bastards eyes, feel the sea coloured eye meet his own in a levelled stare.

And he would feel the recoil of the gun as he pulled the trigger.

A single shot and he would fall like a puppet with the strings severed. Blood would start to pool over the concrete and he would be filled with this crushing relief that it was _over._

And yet he was finally there, gun locked and hand steady, and all he felt was this blood setting hesitance. The green eye slid along the barrel of the gun, over his hand and up his torso. They rose steadily until they settled on his piercing blue irises. There was a look of calm in that eye, like it had seen this coming and was just waiting for the same thing Skipper was. He stared back, deliberate to keep the emotions he was facing concealed.

There was an eerie quiet. No wailing alarms or pitched screams. No grating metal or howling wind, just this perfect silence that seemed to crush the air around them.

Finally he broke the silence.

"You can't shoot me." The voice was a murmur, barely breathed from between his parted jaw. It didn't come out like an accusation, or a taunt, but like he was stating a fact he had never seen before. And skipper couldn't work out is this made it better or worse.

His hand was starting to get slippery against the metal of the gun, but he didn't dare adjust his grip, refusing to be the one to break first.

"I believe you can see my finger on the trigger. I think you'd find I can." He replied tone even as he kept his gaze neutral and detached like he didn't care. Like his heart wasn't racing.

The scientist's eye shifted, eyelid slipping down to half cover his eye. "No, you _can't _shoot me." He stated, lifting his chin the barest fraction as he continued to stare calmly up the barrel of the loaded pistol.

"And why not?" Skipper growled.

"Because if you could you would have done it by now." He stated simply, lips curving ever so faintly into a smirk.

Skipper shrugged. "I'm building tension"

"No." He stated, voice growing a hard edge as his eye shifted into a narrowed slit. "You're stalling because you physically cannot pull that trigger."

"I can and I will-"

"Then do it!" Before the soldier could react the scientist rose up higher on his knees and pressed his forehead against the gun, staring up with a feral challenge in his eye. "I am right here Skipper! Show me. Show me that I'm wrong, show me how big of a man you are and how cold the blood in your veins flows!" He was shouting by now, body quivering as he grit his teeth together. The Red piece of glass was shifting wildly, LED display on the surface swinging rings around focusing and un focusing them until it became nothing more than a blur of reds.

He felt his jaw tighten, every muscle in his body tighten as he watched the mechanical parody of the living tissue that was once there. Everything pulled towards him, except his finger. It remained poised lightly on the trigger, sweat slicking his hand against the gun as he held it firm.

"See?" there was a bitter laugh in his voice as he sat back, putting some distance between the gun and his forehead. "You can't do it! And I know exactly why."

"Why!?" He snapped.

"Because you need me."

Skipper felt his eyes narrowing. "I don't need you-

"You need me Skipper because as great as being the hero is, when there is no one to stop or detain or thwart the plans of you start chasing your own tail like a dog." He hissed, eye practically ablaze as his hands tightened into fists.

He snorted, passing off the insane idea before it could grab hold, before he would have to face it fully. "There are thousands of people with bad intentions-"

"But none of them are me."

He didn't have a response, instead clamping his jaw shut and finally giving into the urge to shuffle the gun in his palm.

He hadn't even drawn a breath. "None of them have our history, our story, the bitter rivalry that sets their bodies on fire when they draw close!" His voice grew higher and higher as he spoke, building it up like a passionate story-teller. "You need me."

His mouth was dry. "What makes you so sure of this? So sure I won't kill you here."

"Because I need you."

For a few seconds no one said anything, the silence commanding the conversation as the gap between words grew wider and wider with every passing heartbeat.

Another bitter laugh cut the quiet. "I've tried. Oh trust me I've tried to see it through with other self-proclaimed hero's but none of them cut it. None of them are you. Let me tell you, being the villain is all good fun until there is no one there to stop you." He was shaking again, muscles all pulled thin from the tension inside him. "Like a dog. Round and round and round you chase yourself."

There were words. But they were all jumbled, and no matter how hard he focused he couldn't get them to come together in a sentence. Everything felt like it was falling and he was suspended in the middle of it watching as it shattered. There was a pressure on his hand and the scientist was back up on his knees and pressing against the muzzle of the gun again, one eye defiant and the other going into over drive.

"Do it. Prove me wrong." He hissed.

"I-"

"Pull the trigger!" He was shouting, one hand gripping Skippers own to keep his aim steady. He couldn't think, there was no time to think there was no time no time no time-

"I-"

No time no time- "You can't Skipper! You'll never be able too!"

He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't think. But he could act. He pulled back a fist and slammed it into the side of the scientists face, startling him enough to wrench the gun back, and fling it aside. The punch was weak, barely making an impact. But there was no gun now, there was nothing but lips and teeth and hands as they fell together somewhere in the middle. It was messy and uncoordinated and Skippers lips were bruising but he tangled his hands into the silvery hair and pulled the Scientist closer anyway. There was blood from biting but he didn't know whose it was and it didn't matter because the whole thing was so utterly ruthless and angry and needy and it just fit. An incessant urge to be both close and far away was tugging him in two but there were hands everywhere and he didn't know which were his but they were clawing and ripping and they were tearing at the wounds from the fight and spilling more blood but none of it mattered because he needed this.

They needed this.

Because their romance was never going to be something that wasn't covered in blood and sweat and held together by nothing more than a selfish need for something they couldn't get anywhere else.

"Sir?" Kowalski was looking up from the gauze he was winding around privates arm, eyes narrowed as the figure approached from the building, nothing more than a black outline against the sun that was setting against the horizon. "Is that-"

"Its Skippah!" Private shouted, frowning as the figure grew closer. "He looks really badly hurt…"

"Uh-hu-" Rico was cut off by his own short scream of pain as his shoulder suddenly snapped back into its socket from him trying to re-set it.

Kowalski was already on his feet and limping towards his leader. "Sir are you alright?"

The team leader nodded, wincing as blood continued to pool from his lips and nose, trying to stifle it with his hand. It was also starting to drip into his eyes from a gash on his forehead and what could only be presumed as more gashes in on his scalp that were leaking red from his hairline. "I'm fine."

"What about Blowhole, did you-"

Skipper withdrew his hand and lifted his head, looking his lieutenant in the eyes when he spoke. "He got away. I accidentally shot a pipe and the smoke leaking from it filled the room. Bastard pushed me down the stairs and bolted. I couldn't find hi- Oh god, can I get a tissue?" His voice was thick as the blood continued to flow.

Private passed him a cloth he was using to dab at a shallow wound on his leg. "It's ok Skipper, we'll get him soon enough!" He laughed.

"It's almost like he wants to be found as much as you want to find him."

* * *

><p>Sorry, I'm not very familiar with this pairing ^-^' hope you all liked it anyway.<p>

Next up is Clemson/fem!Hans

See ya'll next time :)


	14. Chapter 14

Fem-hans/Clemson. Here it is! Enjoy it SkySpiritsTalentShow, You've deserved it!

I don't own Penguins of Madagascar. I went on a quest in the remote corners of the earth to try and find it, but I only found some stupid crystal skull and two halves of a triangle.

Warnings: Talk of 'bits' in the most immature and not-dangerous-to-young children ways possible

Hope you like it :)

* * *

><p>"Ok. I'm really sorry about the inconvenience, but you my friend are going to have to start from the top."<p>

He really wasn't sure how he managed to get into this situation, it was barely seven thirty in the morning and he had already managed to screw up. Not that he blamed him or anything but he had had a late night last night and not even the three cups of coffee he had downed already were helping him come to terms with what his house-mate had gone and done.

Hans huffed, fingers tapping on the table impatiently. "Like I was saying, I went to go try and infiltrate the Penguins lair because I got told they-"

"You got told by Savio."

Hans paused, eyes flickering back and forth sheepishly. "Yes I admit I did get tol-"

"You got told they were going on vacation in the Congo."

"Well I-"

"You believed him when he told you that."

"OK! I get it! It was Sarcasam! I see that now!" Hans shouted. "Now let me finish!"

Clemson chuckled, neon eyes half lidded in that way that made him seem like he was planning to shove your hand in a blender when you weren't focusing. "I'm not stopping you, please continue with your lengthy tale of misfortune."

"Right. Well I got there and just went in Because you know, I thought they weren't going to be there and the next thing I know the tall one is shooting at me! Not with an actual gun, but something he grabbed off the counter… obviously." Hans paused to laugh. "I mean It doesn't look like I'm bleeding to death does it? anyway I'm flat on my back on the floor and the next thing I know skipper is Laughing at me and telling me that this is comeuppance and then throwing me out the door!"

Clemson nodded solemnly. "And that… is how you ended up in this situation."

Hans nodded, lips twisting into a pout. "Skipper was not playing fair."

He grinned faintly, leaning on the legs of his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "Now I wouldn't say that… _Hannah._"

Hans eyes narrowed. "Now you're not playing fair either! It's not my fault I'm stuck like this now!"

"Oh I'll think you'll find that it is!" The Ginger cackled, throwing his head back and laughing maniacally, Stopping partway to right his chair suddenly. "woah, almost fell off there," he said before launching back into his outburst of laughter.

Watching him across the table was a rather upset looking Danish woman, with shoulder length wavy black hair and brown eyes. "this is stupid, and you are being so completely unsympathetic! I thought we were best pals Clemmy!" Hans complained. "Added to that I'm a woman now so-"

"You say that like you think I haven't noticed." He paused to lean over the table and lessen the distance between them. His eyes were half lidded again, but not in an 'impending homicide' way but more in a 'Borderline Sexual assault way.' "And you better believe me when I say this, because oh do I mean it, I _have _noticed."

There was a moment of confusion for the Dane before the implications behind the words hit home and his now female face flushed red. "Oh well… I uh…" He could feel sweat starting to bead on the back of his neck and the fact Clemson refused to stop staring at him with that expression was only succeeding in making the situation worse. There were words in his head, but stringing them together into a comprehensible sentence under the scrutiny of the gaze boring into him was not something he was going to be able to do. Long slender fingers gently reached out to drift the tips of the slender digits over his wrist and _yep that was enough for today thank you sir._

The Woman pushed her chair back in a sudden jerky motion that almost had her face planting on the splintering table in her hurry to get up. Clemson raised an eye brow as his room-mate righted themselves and stumbled away from the table, usually firm and well placed footsteps now uncoordinated and clumsy.

"Right, haha, you almost got me with that one Clemmy." Hans said, waggling a finger at the con-artist as his eyes darted around the room. "You almost –" The sentence was cut off by the sound of his hip slamming painfully into an armchair and then the noise of a side-table clattering to the floor.

"Are you ok there?" he asked.

"Fine! I'm… fine, you just uh… you stay right there. I can handle this."

Clemson just watched amused over his fourth cup of coffee as his now female roommate hastily righted the furniture, blabbering in her accented voice as she went, hands waving wildy in front of her flushed face.

If that was all it took to get him flustered now, He could only imagine the havoc he could cause while Hans was stuck in a woman's body. As he watched her slam into a wall his lips curled into an outright smirk.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

><p>While he would never admit it out loud, being a woman was tougher than he thought it would be. For one, his back was aching and while he couldn't work out why, he had discovered that hot water helped so the shower had quickly become his refuge. Added to that his his hips were continually smacking into doorframes and desks and tables at exactly the wrong height and he couldn't even lay on his stomach anymore!<p>

He was not looking forward to having to experience the joys of what Henrietta had politely described as 'the feeling of your uterus trying to claw its way out of your body' when she had found him struggling with the stuck door to the apartment he shared with Clemson. He had been cursing himself for not trying to fix it sooner when she had come around the corner only to smile at him pityingly.

"So the rumours are true huh?" she had said sadly while shaking her bright blue hair from her eyes. "Well I thought I should come check it out. Oh and give you these."

He had paled upon reading the label and he heard her grating laughter as she walked away. "Look forward to it Hans, I calculate you're due in about 16 days!"

He grimaced under the warm spray of water as he shook his hair from his eyes. The whole situation was embarrassing and to make it worse the whole building knew now thanks to the loudmouth across the hall, which only proceeded to make things worse. He felt like a laughing stock and the fact all Clemson ever did was cackle and cause the lights to flicker he was, if anything, unhelpful. Shutting the water off he craned his neck back to try and scrape the hair off his front and back into the main mess plastered to his neck. In fact his room-mate had probably been more than un-helpful the past few days, with the stupid comments and touches perfectly designed to make someone drop a plate or two. If he hadn't known him well enough he would have been positive the man had been trying to bed him over the last few days. As it stood he was only about halfway sure this was a joke.

And apparently he wasn't the only one who had picked up on the strange attempt to freak him out, considering Lulu had cornered Clemson in the hall the day before and make him promise to 'treat her right.' A concern which had the whole building loose power for about three minutes as he came into the apartment and fell onto the couch laughing like a serial killer who got off scot free.

Hans tied a towel around his waist and exhaled deeply. He really wasn't sure what was going on anymore, between trying to figure out how to deal with an unfamiliar form to dealing with an unpredictable roommate who apparently had bad intentions. He waked out of the bathroom and down to the sound of deal or no deal being watched intently by his flatmate, ready for the in depth exposition on the 15 minutes he had missed.

"No no no! You should have taken it and walked!" he shouted, sitting on the edge of the battered chair and waving his arms at the small screen. "Its not that hard, just say deal and rub your fingers together, look I can do it!"

The presenter announced an add break and the ginger sighed, shaking his head as he turned towards him. "I swear people these…" His sentence trailed off, eyes widening as he curled his lips in like a five year old when they promise to zip their lips. He blinked once, and then twice and Hans was about to ask him what was wrong when he spoke up.

"Uh… Hans?"

"Yes?" He replied, growing more concerned as Clemson's face started to flush.

"… You do remember you have a woman's body now, right?"

For a moment he was confused, before realisation hit him like a runaway freight train and he turned and darted back into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. It didn't take a mirror to tell him that is face was bright red with shame or that he was most likely never leaving the bathroom again in his natural life. He slumped against the door and buried his head in his hands, opening his eyes a quarter of a fraction to glare down at his (admittedly rather amazing) chest. "You are causing all kinds of problems." He hissed.

He was startled by the hesitant knocks on the door. "Hans?"

"Go away." He replied, snatching for another towel just in case.

There was the quiet thud of Clemson falling against the door on the other side. "You know there is nothing to be embarrassed about, well maybe there is, but not really because you're dealing with me here."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

There was a moment of silence before Clemson spoke up again. "How many times, honestly, have you seen my junk."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did he couldn't help but laugh. "True."

"It's an astonishingly large number, I never thought there would honestly be this many, I mean, I knew there would be some but… I'm a like a cheap hooker."

The worst part about it was that he sounded genuinely surprised, And He choked on air as he struggled to breathe.

"Don't laugh! I'm going through serious introspection here!"

"I'm sorry." He wheezed, laughter still struggling weakly from his throat. "I… I Can't stop picturing your, how did you say it?"

"Junk?" he offered

"Junk. "

Clemson chuckled. "You and everyone else. Now are you done being a bathroom hog, I have to brush my teeth."

He picked himself up off the tiles and unlocked the door to face his flat-mate, clutching a towel to his chest like a lifeline. Clemson blinked at him, before blatantly dropping his eyes.

"You have to admit." He sighed. "You have a fantastic rack."

"I know." Hans said mournfully.

* * *

><p>It was nice. And calm, and peaceful. It felt like for the first time in three days he could actually breathe again. It was just him and-<p>

"Get up we're going to dinner."

He shrieked and fell off the chair, collapsing to the floor in a rather ungraceful heap. "Clemson! When did you even get in here?!"

He picked the half finished ray off the table and studied it. "Me? Oh about three minutes ago, did you really buy this on the internet? Well I guess I shouldn't be surprised you can get anything off amazon." He put it back down and rested a hand on the desk, the other resting on his hip as he gazed down at where he was sprawled on the worn carpet. "Now seriously, get up I made reservations."

Hans narrowed his eyes, taking in what his flat-mate was wearing. Black skinny jeans, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a thin dark blue tie. So wherever they were going it was a fairly nice place, but not, as his cleanly dressed friend would say, 'hoity-toity.' But he was getting distracted. "Are you trying to take me out on a date?" He asked suspiciously.

"What? Me no, never! We go out to eat all the time remember!" Clemson said.

"If that shady thai place on the corner counts as 'going out to eat.'" He replied, pulling himself to his feet and tugging his pants up again and tugged at the drawstring to try and keep them on his hips.

Clemson waved a hand dismissively. "Of course it does, now go have a shower, we're leaving in 15 minutes."

Hans resisted the urge to smack him, and instead scowled at his grinning face before brushing past him to fetch some clean clothes from his draws. He supposed he should look at the bright side, at least he was going to get a decent meal out of this. And he supposed Clemson did owe him after that incident on the stairs that he had banned all talk of. Feeling only moderately better he walked to the bathroom and set about cleaning himself up for whatever it was the cunning ginger was undoubtedly scheming at the very moment.

And he didn't have to wait too long to find out, pulling back the shower curtain he felt the relaxed mood the pelting hot water and brought slipping away. His face dropped and he reached out and glared openly at the fabric now in his hand. He wasn't sure who he blamed, the person that failed to put a proper lock on their bathroom door or the man who was undoubtedly talking to himself at the present moment.

Scowling he dried off and tugged the clothes on, ready to kick his flat-mate out their fourth story window into passing traffic, and then drag him back up the stairs and do it at least four more times. He was a man for goodness sake! Granted he was man in a Woman's body but the fact still stood, he was going to look ridiculous.

Twisting he scowled at his reflection in the steam fogged mirror, puffing his chest out to try make himself look severe. Sighing he threw his hands in the air and swore loudly in Danish. The worst part was that the dress actually suited him perfectly and that he felt a swell of pride at how pretty he looked. It was a swell he immediately crushed, but it was a swell none the less. He crammed his feet into the shoes and opened the Bathroom door to glare at his grinning so-called-friend.

"What is this?"

"What is what?"

"The Dress! What is the dress!" He snapped, feeling his hands curl into fists at his side.

Clemson laughed. "The Dress? Well it's a dress." And with that he reached out and grasped his hand to pull him along, ducking under the wild punch that went for his jaw with practiced ease. He pulled a face. "That wasn't a good one."

"You're right, that was terrible! Do you think I'm losing my edge?"

Clemson shrugged. "I wouldn't say –"

His words were cut off by the clean right hook that had him reeling and groaning in pain. "Nope, never mind it seems I'm fine." Hans smirked.

"OW! What was that?" Clemson shouted, arms flailing in the same way they did whenever he got distressed.

"What was what?" He replied.

He scowled, cupping his jaw in one hand.

Hans just smiled broadly, eyes glinting dangerously. "Dinner?" He asked politely, offering his hand.

He was feeling a bit better now.

* * *

><p>The restaurant was nice, it was clean and decorated to a degree that it was neither under-done nor tacky. It was lit by modern style chandeliers with fairly light type bulbs and twisting bits of decorative silver. But this light, while pretty, only went so far so most of the tables had candles on them, perched in nice centrepieces that also held salt and pepper shakers. Hans greatly disliked those centrepieces, the candles in particular. Last time he had sat at a table with a candle on it he'd had to hand-cuff someone to a bed and hijack a car but that was beside the point. The whole setting, from the modern chandeliers to the polished wood floor felt absolutely… <em>Date-y.<em>

He contemplated his wording for a moment, before deciding it didn't really matter and pushed the centrepiece to the side, wrinkling the table cloth and twisting the cutlery around. "Clemson." He whispered, trying to avoid breaking the quiet of hushed voices and breezy music.

He didn't look up from the menu, or even give any sign of having heard him aside from the quiet humming noise he made.

"Clemson!" the harsh whisper got the attention of people around them, and he realised that he probably looked like a nut case leaning over the table the way he was and quickly straightened up.

Clemson gave him an amused looked and shut the menu and placed it back on the table. "Can I help you?" he asked, voice low and smooth.

Hans followed his example, dropping the stage whisper. "This is a date isn't it?" He asked.

He interlocked his fingers and rested them on the table. "What makes you say that?"

"There's a candle on the table." He said, tilting his head towards the flickering light source.

Clemson blinked at it impassively, cyan eyes ringing with boredom. "That there is." He turned his head back towards Hans. "So?"

"Doesn't that seem kind of… date-y?" he pressed.

He shrugged. "I guess. Maybe, depends on how you look at it really."

"Clemson!" Hans snapped, getting his attention back from where it had been starting to drift. "Is this, or is this not a date?"

He paused, face giving nothing away before he finally said, "It's a date."

He paused, swallowing hard as Clemson flashed a simple smile before flicking the menu open again and leaning back in his chair to read it. He really wasn't sure how to continue from there, his plan had never led him that far forward. He was starting to feel slightly nauseous, the churning of his guts making him cringe and long to get up and leave.

"Clemson."

"What now?" He sighed, eyes impatient as he waited.

"You do remember that I am a boy right?" He asked, words coming together far more rushed than he had expected.

Clemson gave him an incredulous look. "Yes." He sighed, turning his eyes back to the pages in front of him again.

"I was only turned into a girl, you know that too right?"

"Yes. "

His throat was dry, but he ignored the water on the table. "And that the minute I figure out how too I'm going to return to being a boy."

Clemson put the leather bound book down with more force than necessary, looking at him harshly across the table. "Are you going to spend the whole dinner asking me pointless questions that all end in the same answer? Because if you are? Don't."

Hans wanted to say something, but before he could the frustrated look on his friends face faded and he exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry, that was incredibly rude of me, really I can't think of another time I've been so uncaring! Unless you count the times that I don't count then I probably have." He mused. He seemed to sense how close he was to spacing out and shook his head sharply. "Anyway you don't have to worry."

"Worry?" He croaked, eyes flicking to the water on the table. "What would I have to worry about."

Clemson sighed. "You honestly think it matters don't you?" There was almost concern in his eyes as he watched him from across the table. "You actually believe your gender matters."

He hadn't been aware of it, at least he was pretty sure he hadn't, but something inside him was relieved to hear that. He didn't know why, it wasn't like he had ever sat down and thought about something like this or even thought about his Friend come Flatmate in any ways more than that. But he was still relieved.

Clemson smiled reassuringly, and Hans briefly wondered if he looked as bad as he felt. "It doesn't really matter to me if you're man or a woman, I just felt like it was a half decent time to try my luck."

"So what are you trying to say."

"I'm trying to say that this is a date and you don't seem to be complaining."

Hans smiled, albeit a bit shaky, and laughed. "I'm not. Thought you have a bruised jaw"

"I do?"

"Yes."

"And Arm from that incident on the stairs."

"I thought I said no talking about that."

"Right, sorry about that." He grinned faintly. "You want to go see our friends the penguins after this?"

Hans thought about it for a moment, biting his lip absently as he did. "It's not going to change anything?"

"Nope. Not at all, Nada."

"Good. Then Skipper is mine."

* * *

><p>BAH BA DA DA DA, DA DA!<p>

Hope you all enjoyed it, and just so you know A) Requests are closed for now, so hold on to any ideas you have, they will be opened again sooner or later and B) This is not the end, but it might be put on the back burner as I try to get my claws into 'Mutation' a little better :D

And thank you to anyone who has reviewed thus far! They all mean so much to me and I just wanted to let you know that ^u^


	15. Chapter 15

Kico? Miley cyrus? Well you asked for it…

I still don't own the penguins of Madagascar. I wished for it from Santa, but I somehow wound up with some kids front teeth? On that note, If you see a bewildered six year old running around with the right to the penguins of Madagascar singing 'all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth' send them my way.

But in other news: You may notice some changes to this story, but hopefully that'll be all A-Ok :)

Also requests are closed and I do not own 7 things I hate about you by one Miley Cyrus.

Enjoy :D

The day honestly could not have been more miserable if it decided to make an effort.

Another day another dead end and with every passing day he could almost see Johnsons impatience grow. It had been 8 months since the last sighting of the elusive Doctor Ara Logan and the longer they went without one the more dangerous she had the ability to become. After spending the whole day scouring abandoned subway tunnels looking for any signs of dangerous experimentation they had come up with less than they had started with and where now forced to make the awkward trip home with absolutely nothing to show for both their leads and for their efforts.

To make it even better it was raining. And of course in true melodramatic New York Fashion this was no light drizzle, it was pouring down in sheets. The large freezing droplets were sparking against the road, blurring the fogged city line and saturating the already dull greys that made up the concrete jungle. Rico was freezing, the rain already soaking through his clothes to slide down his skin and drip from his finger tips and soak into his shoes. His hair was plastered to his head and he the cold was starting to bite at his nose and fingers in a way that was nowhere near comfortable. He would complain if he wasn't so sure that if he even opened his mouth Johnson would hack out his spinal column out with a plastic spoon out here in broad daylight.

The rain seemed to be burning off her even as she walked, the heat of her rage evaporating it as it rested against her skin. However she clearly wasn't angry enough yet to remain completely dry and as it stood she was just as soaked as the rest of them, her blonde hair laying limply against her shoulders and her hoodie sinking closer to the floor with every step she was taking through the puddles littering the footpath. The only reason they were walking in the first place was the fact that Johnson was pissed and Skipper was too spineless to stand up to her and tell her that walking home is the pouring rain was a terrible idea. And as lieutenant that was kind of his job. But if Skipper wasn't then no one was going to, so he had to suck it up and deal with the cold and with the wet.

Even as they walked he was suddenly hit with the realization that he was one person short to be complaining about, and craned his neck back to catch a glimpse of the resident brain walking ten paces back with his hands in curled up in front of his face as he tried to breathe some warmth back into them. He could see the hot plumes of air rising from where his breath coiled in the air and he stopped to let his long legs finally match the pace and catch up with the rest of them.

"'Cek?" Kowalski looked up with heavy eyes. His face had sunk recently into a constant look of frustration and barely there flickers of anger and Rico had given up trying to pry loose the reasons why. Let the guy brood a little, it made no difference to him.

He rubbed his chest at the sudden spark of discomfort curled up behind his lungs. "Keep walking Rico." Kowalski muttered, hands still cupped around his mouth as he tried to scrounge that last bit of warmth from his words.

"No. Rico stay put."

That was Johnson, her eyes hard chips of acid green and her hands coiled into fists at her sides. "I'm sick of this wounded puppy shit Kowalski, Now fucking sort it." and without another word or threat she turned on her heel and stalked off into the rain, letting the unspoken threats she didn't need to make hang in the air and add to the already crushing mood. Skipper hesitated for a moment, and Rico could see the split second deliberation that went on behind the blue eyes as he finally shrugged and turned to jog after their leader.

Kowalski watched them go with a dark expression, one that suddenly made the day seem a little brighter by comparison. It was one that Rico found himself unable to read, and it put him on edge as well.

"'Cek?" He tried again, honestly not sure what he was expecting.

"We wait ten minutes and then we go home and pretend there was some deep heart to heart or whatever she wants."

There wasn't a question, and there wasn't an explanation, just the sudden sharp bite of his words slamming harder than the doors he had been shutting in him face for months now.

And it had been months. Or it had felt like months. Kowalski had suddenly just shut off and it was starting to dig its claws into his head more with each passing day because the last place Rico wanted to be with Kowalski was right back at the start. Back when the Scientist had been nothing but this cold quiet figure who never cracked so much as a smile. He hated that side of Kowalski and he hated being around that side of Kowalski because there was nothing there. It felt like there wasn't a person under the ice king exterior and if you so much as touched him he would concave and crumble into angry bitter nothing. And in the last years he had known him; and it had been years, or it had felt like years, something had changed. Suddenly there was a warm figure with feelings and thoughts and dreams and crazy ideas, and it was the person he could trust to know what he meant and what he was trying to say with nothing more than a look. He was the person who never expected any more than he was willing to give and he couldn't lose that now. There just wasn't that option.

"No." He growled, deliberately forcing himself into the scientists bubble. "Talk to me! Say me what is wrong!" And he knew he was slipping and his words were lost but he didn't have time to untangle them or trust his face because Kowalski wasn't going to listen the way he usually listened.

And being in his space was putting him on edge and he could see it in the way his shoulders were hunching like a bird about to take flight and the way his mouth was twisting in the corners to make some sort of bitter sneer. "Nacek!"

"No." and the hard edge in his words made him take a step back. "I'm not talking to you ok? I'm not talking to you. Just do me a favour and get away from me before I start swinging." And it was definitely a threat and it was a threat that was dripping from his rain soaked lips and from the tension laced inside his muscles.

"I can take it." He growled, and immediately had to dive to the left as Kowalski's fist came out of nowhere and moved to slam into his jaw.

"Are you going to drop it now." He hissed, and it was like the flood gates had suddenly opened because for the first time in months and it had to have been months, there was a full honest emotion captured on his face, and it was rage but it was better than nothing so he didn't bother to think and lobbed his first wildly back.

Kowalski ducked, narrowly avoiding a bloodied nose as he did. "What is wrong with you, you Psychopath?" He shouted, and something told Kowalski he wasn't talking about the impromptu fist fight. But he was shouting and Rico wasn't sure whether to be excited or frightened by this development. "You're so damned flawed and you don't even see it through your vanity and although I guess I can't say that because you're really not are you? No you're something stuck between and you'll use whichever suits you to get what you want!"

Rico didn't bother trying to sort it, he head the words but he didn't latch on and he didn't let them stick. It was like being back in Clearview and blanking the psyche's before their words actually started to string into sentences and they started to try and pick him to pieces. Instead he swung a fist and he wasn't sure why but it probably had to do with the irritation he could feel starting to pool in his gut. Kowalski twirled out of the way, moving to crunch his elbow up into his face, and he had to swerve backwards sharply to avoid it. His shoes were slipping in the rain but he didn't even have time to right himself before more words were flying at him in sharp angry bursts.

"I don't know who you're trying to be but if it's those brutes from basic then count me out! Or maybe it's any member of the female species because you seem so intent of getting to know every woman we run into and I don't understand it because all you do is behave the way you do with me and it's driving me insane because I don't know what you want from me!" He wasn't trying to hit him anymore; he was just hunched slightly in the rain with this chest heaving and eyes of a cornered animal, desperate and angry. "Just tell me what you're doing so I know I'm not crazy!"

He didn't need to speak this time and he was so thankful for it because the already weak and spotty link from his thoughts and his mouth was stuck in a low signal zone.

Kowalski raked his hands though his rain slicked black hair and shook the water that was dripping down his face loose. "Tell me…" And there wasn't any anger now, just desperation. "Tell me I don't love you."

And without his hair in his fog blue eyes and with the rain running rivulets down his face he looked his age for once. He looked like the lost 21 year old that he actually was underneath everything built on top of it.

And then there was silence, muted by the rainfall that had yet to even try and slow its assault on the pavement. Rico realised he should have been freezing, the cold gnawing on his bones and icing his skin but he just couldn't feel it any more. He couldn't feel much of anything really besides the sudden drop in his stomach like his insides and given out and fallen into the black hole that had opened inside him. Asking someone to tell you that they don't love you is different from asking someone if they love you. There wasn't any pressure here on him and he didn't even know if Kowalski was doing that on purpose but he suddenly couldn't take it.

The blow hit him square in the gut and Kowalski doubled over gasping and wheezing and Rico rationalized it that he kind of deserved it for shouting like a petulant teenager. But screw apologies because right now he didn't need one.

"Seriously!" He shouted. And he shouted it because he had it in his mouth now as he didn't need to think about it or try and force it out. "Seriously!" and he wasn't quite sure why he meant it but he did know it didn't matter anyway because neither of them were exactly themselves right now.

"You... You blame me for... for... for your ideas?!" and Ideas was the wrong word, but the one he was looking for was gone. Lots of things were gone he realised including everything he and Kowalski had been before this moment and it was here in the rain where they were shouting and throwing the blame around and feeling all too much and at the same time not enough that he suddenly understood why he didn't want Kowalski to fall back in on himself and go back to being what he had once been. And it was because he loved the Kowalski he knew now.

"Oh." He breathed. His words condense in the air around him like he could reach out and touch his feelings and thoughts. "Oh..."

"Oh?" Kowalski hissed. "Oh? What does that mean!"

And he was going to have to say it because there was no way to make his face explain this. His thoughts were tripping over one another and it took him several tries in his head to get his words in the right order and make sure they were the right ones. "I... I love you Nacek."

And that was all. That was all he had to say to the scrawny too pale figure in front of him that couldn't throw a punch to save himself or work through his feelings without going off his nut at someone because that's just who he was and it was awful and tragic and messed up but at the heart of it they all were, weren't they?

Kowalski, with his stupid worn out skinny jeans that hug his ass like they were made too and his corny shirt with some dumb science pun on it that always made him crinkle his eyes in that cute contented way when someone mentioned it, reached out and for a moment he was sure that those idiotically long fingers that he would chew on the tips of when he was anxious were going to wrap around his throat and try to strangle the life out of him.

Instead they grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled, yanking him forward and his dumb all too soft looking lips that could run a mile a minute making conclusions no-one else could understand and be nipped on until bruised and swelling and curl into endearing pouts and know-it-all smirks, met his own and he couldn't think or breathe because there wasn't any room for it inside his head beside the realization that he was kissing him with those dumb lips.

He pulled away, pupils dilated and panting between bruised lips. His hair was falling into his eyes again but he didn't seem to care as his hands tightened their grip on his collar and pulled him close again to the point their lips brushed as he growled in his over-rated smooth as silk baritone voice that could give the queen of England palpitations, "You… You ignoramus!"

He felt his knees buckle slightly at the fierceness of the kiss, returning it in kind and reaching for Kowalski's hips and pull him as close as he could manage as the hands on his collar turned into hands on his jaw, almost bruising in their intensity. It was violent and desperate and he could feel their teeth clacking together between the puffs of hot air. Kowalski's nails digging started into his skin, so he responded in kind, slipping his fingers under his soaking shirt and scratching his nails across the hot skin.

He let out a soft hissing noise and started squirming, his back tensing under his scraping as he simultaneously tried to pull away and press himself closer. Then there were hands on his neck and shoulders, trying to force him down and tilt his head back even further. He resisted, fingers digging in until he was just shy of breaking skin and it dawned on him that they were practically fighting even as they kissed.

And the whole notion was so ridiculous he started laughing.

And he wasn't sure why, but the moment he started he couldn't stop. Everything, the whole situation, was just suddenly breaching the line of hilarious. There they were two people who had faced death multiple times and seen things most people couldn't cope with, making out like teenagers in the rain and yelling because they just didn't know what to do.

And Kowalski somehow understood this because he was laughing too. And they stood there in the freezing rain and laughed until they couldn't laugh anymore but at that point it didn't really matter.

With his head canted upwards towards the sky he finally understood why rain could be good sometimes. The cool droplets hitting his face were refreshing and had taken up the task of gently nudging his hair off his forehead. Letting his eyelids slide open he tilted his head lazily to look at Kowalski to see him with eyelids closed and lashes fanning over his smooth milky skin and lips parted to let hot puffs of air escape with each breath and he suddenly _really_ understood how rain could be good sometimes.

"Kowalski?"

"Hmm?" He opened one eye slowly and gave him a small quirk of a smile.

"Nothing." He shrugged finally. He couldn't even remember what he had wanted.

"I should probably apologize for what I said." Kowalski murmured, hands coming down off the railing they were leaning on to twiddle in front of him mindlessly. "I'm sorry for what I said I was just... Mixed up I guess... and for that I apologize. I took my emotions out on you and that was terrible of me."

Rico shrugged and pulled a face he hoped said something along the lines of 'I really couldn't care less at this point.'

Because yeah, he was a flawed individual just like Kowalski had screamed at him. More so than most probably, But so was Kowalski. And if pressed Rico could probably tell you seven things he hated about Kowalski without blinking. But he could tell you seven of the things he loved in a fraction of that time and he supposed it took him far longer than it should have to see it, but it was somewhere in that process of recognising the flaws and accepting them because there were better things to mull over than those tiny imperfections he had fallen in love with a stupidly wonderful idiot. And he had done it without realizing; the way he managed to do most of the things in his life.

And sure he was an idiot who had kept the lid to his problems screwed on so tightly he had shattered the bottle and sliced people with the shards but a few scratches never killed anyone.

Kowalski was still looking at him and it had morphed into a worried sort of frown so he slid along the dripping railing until he was pressed snugly into his side and pressed his lips against Kowalski's till he felt the frown dissipate into the cold and away from the warm spaces where their skin brushed.

Besides, Like Rain, Shattered Glass could be pretty wonderful.


End file.
